The Common Thread
by something someone said
Summary: Fantasy AU. Feliciano is able to manifest very rare and powerful magic. It's a power that many want-and not all for the right reason. Cast out of his Grandfather's lands, he resolves to make the best of it, aiding a young captain in a bloody war.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

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><p>AN: So I wanted to write a fantasy story. This will probably be a very interesting undertaking since I've read only a handful of fantasy books in my entire life.

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><p>Prologue<p>

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><p>Arthur took another swig of the flask and returned it hastily to the inner pocket of his robes. He had been waiting in the cold for an indeterminable amount of time, but it felt like eternity.<p>

Robes! Of course he was wearing robes. He was a Weaver after all: a man able to conjure up "magic" from his very fingertips and _weave_ it into different forms. It was something that would make one very jealous. Arthur knew it. So of course he would be wearing the damned stuffy garment. Not to mention he was actually one of the higher-ups as far as Weavers went, not that anyone kept track. Or at least, he had been.

Arthur gulped another drop and hid the bottle back again. He wasn't so sure why he was intent on hiding his drinking. All the Weavers in the Valis Sanctuary knew. But apparently Valis was suppose to be a haven for _their_ kind, so like most sanctuaries it had banned all the things that made life worth living in the pursuit of studying magic.

Arthur shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He was on the docks of the island and could hear the pleasant rhythm of the sea lapping under the wood. For some reason it made him nostalgic, but he quickly credited that feeling to the alcohol.

He was waiting for someone.

Another nostalgic feeling swam to the surface, only to be pushed down again with another drink.

He wasn't so sure why it had to be _him_ that greeted the newcomer. There were plenty of other Valis priests more pleasant than him-he had made sure of it. And he wasn't sure why _it_ was taking so long in the first place. Passage to the tiny Valis island from the mainland usually didn't take an irritatingly long amount of time.

To pass that time, Arthur tried to remember what he knew about the newcomer. It was a kid really, apparently from a city-state somewhere in that country over there (Arthur wasn't particularly apologetic about his geography). The kid had just discovered the powers of weaving and had been promptly sent to Valis Sanctuary. But there was something else that Arthur felt like he was forgetting. He credited that feeling to the alcohol too.

Just then he saw lights in the distance and the diminutive boat made its way into the small harbor. Arthur stood at attention, or as much as attention he could muster, or cared to muster. The boat pulled in sooner or later and Arthur caught his first glimpse of the new Weaver. The face was obscured by a hood, but he made out a smooth chin and a hesitant expression.

Yes. He was starting to remember. Something about this kid wasn't normal, even for a Weaver.

The youngster was escorted out of the boat and Arthur caught his first good look at the younger one from the lantern's light. He'd never seen a more pitiful thing in his life. The eyes were downcast and demure, unsure of even the steps he walked. In fact, there was even something womanly in the movements, as if the person had been brought up as a female.

And that's when Arthur remembered. The brown eyes that looked up at him, in fear, in relief, in hope, were those of a Thender, the rarest and most powerful of Weavers and also the most misunderstood.

Arthur cradled the flask in his hand. He'd need a whole lot more before the night was through.


	2. Cast Away

A/N: Thank you for you reviews. Here's the first chapter.

Chapter 1 _Cast Away_

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><p><em>The world is connected by threads. Each thread has a beginning and an end, but tied together, they form the net of eternity.<em>

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><p><em>Four years later...<em>

Feliciano patted the dust off his coat. Three weeks on the road and he wondered why he even bothered. Yes, the coat, as well as the clothing under it, was gray and hid dirt well, but he knew that it would never be the wonderful gray it had been we had got it. The coat was more akin to the color of charcoal now.

He reflected on the clothing article. At the sanctuary where he had honed his powers he was given the garments as a parting gift.

"May you be true to the lessons you learned," one of the priests had said. There was supposed to be some kind of connection between the gray of the cloth and the gray of the mountains that surrounded the sanctuary. Everything was spun together, related, held by a common thread. Feliciano hadn't noticed it then, however, it had been one of those rare sunny days and the mountains were a vibrant green.

Not like today. Feliciano walked along the road, looking beyond the yellowing fields to the sky. No mountains. It was flat and it bothered him a little.

At once his mind flung itself back in time to his lazy childhood- those sweet, lethargic days. Being the second son of a rich land holder, Feliciano wanted for nothing. He would not have to take over as head land holder, that was his elder brother's job, so as Lovino studied Feliciano painted. He would have loved to stay there, in that beautiful stucco building overlooking fields and pastures. But fate had had other plans.

Feliciano stopped on the roadside for a break. He had been walking all day and his feet were killing him. It seemed like as good a time as any for a siesta anyway. Only, he was weary of robbers and the like. Perhaps if he just closed his eyes for a little...

_"Easy boy," his teacher said, one of the priests of the Valis Sanctuary. He had been a great wizard in his day, or so the rumor was. Today, however, he was Feliciano's irritable mentor. "Put more strength into it!" _

_Feliciano concentrated. He could feel the energy, echoing out from inside the very recesses of his soul, coursing through his blood and finally dispersing from his fingertips. This was supposed to be a very easy spell, but it was looking and more and more to be a spider's web of interlocking magic protocols. Each time he flung power into one section of the web, another would disappear. The goal was to make the entire web fill with energy. So far Feliciano had four out of ten spots filled, minus the one he had just lost. _

_"You're not trying hard enough!" His teacher yelled, and Feliciano went deeper, tapping into that energy that only a Thender was supposed to have. _

_"I'm trying," he mustered. _

_"Well, it's not good enough," came his teacher's quick reply. Another section of the web collapsed. Feliciano was quickly losing the little confidence he did have. _

_He went for one more push, the power in him pulsing and dispersing itself in the form of white light. The web radiated and glowed, first four sections, then six, then eight, just two more and..._

_The web burst into a myriad of sparkle and Feliciano dropped to his knees, completely spent. It was quiet and for a time Feliciano could only hear his own labored breathing. _

_"That was supposed to be a guard spell," his teacher began in his most scathing tone, his bushy eyebrows knitting together. "Had you managed it, you would have been able to deflect anything thrown your way. Instead you overcompensated and the web burst. I had planned on giving you a demonstration on the more offensive spells, but it seems you are not even ready for those." _

_And his teacher had walked out of the room, his expression unreadable as Feliciano crumpled to the floor. _

Feliciano woke with a start. The first thing he saw was the sky, filled with orange and yellow streaks. He had been asleep so long! Feli hauled himself up and started running. He'd never find a safe place to sleep for the night at this rate.

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><p>Thankfully he managed to barter with a farmer and got a place in the barn. Country folk were nice, Feliciano thought, so long as they weren't convinced you were some type of robber. Or trying to steal their daughter. Or both! He wasn't really sure that he had the farmer totally convinced, however.<p>

He slept well and was off the next dawn. The day started out the same as the days previous and Feliciano had to stop and ask himself just where he was going.

In truth, he didn't really know. He had gifts, yes, some very rare and powerful ones at that, but he hadn't come across a situation where he needed them.

_The priests told me go North, to seek and I shall find, _he thought_, well, except for Priest Kirkland. He told me I shouldn't waste my time. I should march straight off a cliff and be done with it. _

Feliciano sighed. It was completely exhausting not even knowing what to look for. It would have been better to become a traveling artists. But even Feliciano knew he couldn't be that. He had suffered too long to be anything but what he was.

_The question is, what am I? _

Feliciano knew what he _wasn't_. Normal. Being able to control the forces deep within himself and casting them out at his will. Constructing spells, reconstructing bones and other wounds, even manipulating the very plane he walked on: he could do that.

But what he couldn't be was normal. And on top of that... No, he didn't not want to think about it now. Just reminding himself why he was here in the first place and not wrapped in the covers of his childhood bed.

But Feliciano doubted that bed was even _his_ anymore.

_"Feli, you have a gift. It would be selfish to not use to it to serve others," his grandfather had said, in a tone so fragile that it seemed about to break at any moment. "That's why, as of this moment, I am disinheriting you from the Vargas line. You will no longer be a Vargas." _

_At that, Feliciano had burst into tears. _

_"Feli," his grandfather chided in the same gentle tone, "Don't you know what this means? You're free to create your own destiny. You won't be shackled to this land, you won't be engulfed with its business and political affairs. Don't you get it? You're free, Feli, you're free." _

_And though his grandfather had taken him into his arms, Feliciano still had felt painfully alone. The knowledge that he would have to leave everything he had ever known made the sobs come out in successive rhythms, like water welling up from the ground. His grandfather had repeated over and over that he loved him and always would, and perhaps that was what had caused him the most pain. _

Feliciano reflected.

_If you loved me, Grandfather, why did you exile me? If you had truly loved me, you would have known the last thing I wanted was freedom. Especially at the price of losing you._

His eyes smarted. There was no use crying over it now, just as there was no use crying over it for the last four years.

Feliciano continued his long walk. Sometimes the children of field workers would run up to him and asked him where he was going. The answer was always the same, "Where I'm needed."

Their faces would look perplexed for a moment and Feliciano would smile kindly.

"Where is that?" They would ask.

"I don't know."

And, being satisfied with this answer, or else getting bored of him, the children would run away to their games again.

It continued for about three days. In those three days Feliciano slept in barns, and barring that, under carts. Each morning he would pull himself up and continue his long aimless walk. But just as he was beginning to enjoy his travels, destiny gave him another turn in the road, in the shape of wounded soldier heading back from battle.

The man was about to fall off his feet when Feliciano came across him on the road. He quickly supported the man and brought him to the side of the road. There he administered the healing spell he had learned from Sanctuary.

He saw a gaping hole in the man's energies and filled it with his own strength. In truth, it was a simple spell, simply filling one gap, but the gap was large, so more power needed to be used. He had learned this spell from a kind Priestess with a rather heavy chest.

_"It is as if you are tying threads together," she said, her kind eyes encouraging him. _

_Feliciano concentrated on the tying part. Eventually though, his hands got sore. "Why do we have to tie these cloths together? Aren't we supposed to be learning magic?" _

_She gave him a smile. "In a way, tying cloths is magic. It takes a lot of force to make them tied and keep them tied together, but look, if you try to pull either one apart you're in for a problem." And sure enough, when she pulled at both ends, the rags didn't come undone. "Also," she added, "we can't have you practicing on people yet. Not after your session with Arthur yesterday," she giggled, "You might make our patients explode!" _

Still, he remembered the spells she had taught him. He used his own life energy and tied together the soldier's flesh, working from the inside out. Being a Weaver, he could see the threads of the wound, the aching spiritual gap. He tied the individual threads together and made them strong.

The soldier laid there for a time and then suddenly rose.

"That's funny," he said, "I was close to dying but now I feel fine." Then his eyes lit with recognition. "Wait! You're a Weaver aren't you? A Healer?"

Feliciano nodded. Though the gap he needed to fill had not been an especially hard task, he still felt drained of his energy.

"Oh thank you so much, Miss, you have no idea-" The soldier grabbed both his hands. At once Feliciano recoiled.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken." He told him. The man looked confused. "I'm not a woman." And on instinct the soldier backed away.

"Wait? You aren't a woman?"

This time Feliciano shook his head.

"But I thought only women could cast such spells." The soldier looked confused and Feliciano felt a little sorry for him. "Wait, don't tell me you're a-"

Feliciano didn't let him finish. "Thender, yes. I am." There, he had said it. The third gender. Both man and woman. Pervert and freak.

When Feli was born, his family had thought he was a girl and raised him a such during the early years of his life. When it was discovered he was in fact a he, he was raised accordingly, but those early years had left a large impression of him. The womanly habits came naturally to him and he often made gestures that he was sure he had never seen his brother or grandfather make. But then he had hit puberty and the truth was revealed. And painfully too. That day he had broken every glass in the house with his unusual new powers.

"My god!" The soldier exclaimed, as if some recollection was coming before him, some past memory that only he could see.

Feli couldn't think of a way to reply to that, so he made to stand. His energy was coming back already, like he knew it would.

"Wait! I didn't mean to offend you." The soldier called out to him as Feliciano made to turn away. "I know I don't know a lot about magic-"

This time Feliciano interrupted him again, but in a much more apathetic and practiced tone. "Male Weavers make something out of nothing. That's why they're so good for combative magic. Female Weavers use what's around them. That's why they're useful for healing magic. It's not that a man can't heal with magic, or a woman can't issue an attack. It's just easier to mend a bone by recycling the calcium from around the break than trying to construct it from thin air."

"I see," the soldier said. The man stretched and pushed himself to his feet. "Well, may I know your name?"

"Feliciano."

"Feliciano. My name is Toris Lorinaitis. Let me thank you. There is a village nearby with a tavern. Please allow me to buy you a meal."

And though Feliciano was still on his guard from the earlier exchange, he knew that he needed to eat and if the soldier was paying who was he to say no?

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><p>AN: Hello again. Thanks for reading so far. Anyway, I came up with the idea for this story while reading Jane Eyre, The Left Hand of Darkness and a few fantasy books simultaneously, so some of the themes kind of blend together. Anyway, this story takes place your run-of-the-mill not-quite-fantasy-Europe type place, thus I changed the names of the countries. Additionally, as you probably guessed, it's a more serious kind of story so the characters reflect that.


	3. One of the Pack

Chapter 2 _One of the pack_

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><p>"It was a fierce battle," Toris was saying. They had cleared a few courses already, but they also had a few more to look forward to.<p>

In truth, Feli hadn't been listening to half of it. He was more concerned with the food on his plate and wondering if one big meal was equivalent to two or three smaller ones, and if he'd be able to get through the next day.

"...and then you found me on the road," the soldier finished his long narrative and Feliciano gave a polite sigh, then dug back into his food. He was thankful for the soldier's company, but he was dreadfully hungry and food came first.

When his appetite was starting to slow he took notice of his dinner companion at last. His brown hair was tied in a ponytail and his eyes were bright and kind. At least, that was what Feliciano got out of them. He had a penchant for finding the goodness in people, or that was what his grandfather had said all those years ago.

On the contrary, his brother Lovino found the evil in people and rooted it out before it could take hold. But Feli saw the goodness in people, even when it was hidden under the layers of a hard life. Perhaps it had something to do with his powers as a Weaver, but the Valis priests had never brought it up and he had never thought to ask. Perhaps everyone could sense some degree of evil or good in others. It was what they used to survive.

Now he regretted not listening in on the soldier's story. What army would leave such a person to die?

"Is there something wrong?" Toris asked. Feli realized he had been staring for quite some time.

"No," the Weaver shook his head, "I was just... you see, it is rare for me to come across soldiers. Or anyone other than farmers, actually. In fact, this is the first time I've ever dined in a tavern before."

The soldier stared at him incredulously. "Your first time? You look almost twenty."

Feli nodded. "It's the truth. I'm no from around here and I don't know what to say in such situations. So forgive me."

"No! No. I will not hear that from the man who just saved my life," the soldier went on. "Just carry on as you usually do. Coming from the army I have little standards. Anything will do."

Feliciano nodded. His appetite was coming on again.

It was then that the soldier got a glimmer in his eyes, so that Feli's movements were arrested until the other spoke.

"So you are a Healer?"

Feli nodded. "A Thender actually."

"Of course. I knew that. But you can heal as well."

Feliciano nodded again.

"Forgive me for being forward with you, but it isn't everyday you find perfectly good Weavers wandering around here. Or anywhere for that matter."

Feliciano had to agree. He hadn't come across any others like him since he had started his journey.

"Where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?"

Now Feli shook his head. "Nowhere. No, maybe that's wrong. Everywhere. I don't know. No, that's not right either. I guess the simplest thing to say is that I'm going where I'm needed, even though I don't know where that is."

Toris' eyes glowed. "That's perfect."

"Hmm?"

"I mean, we have been in desperate need of a Healer for a very long time. Natalia is as talented as she is lovely, but her magic doesn't compare to the levels of a Weaver such as yourself."

Feliciano scrunched his nose. He did not know where the conversation was going.

"Forgive me again. I only think, that, if you have nowhere to go, then wouldn't it be a waste to not serve as a Healer in an army that desperately needs one?"

"You're asking me to join an army?" The realization struck him like cold water. An army? As in an army that fought with other armies? That sounded dangerous.

Toris nodded.

"I-" He found it hard to respond. Was being an army Healer his calling? No other had presented itself to him and it seemed like a profession he could subsist off of. But the army and all it entailed. He could not form one clear picture of it: a gritty life or one of glory? He wasn't interested in either.

And yet he didn't have any other prospects. And being part of an army would provide him with food and shelter. And so he found himself nodding to Toris.

Again, the soldier's eyes glittered. "Good! I can assure you that your powers will be put to good use." Then his tone darkned and he leaned across the table to whisper,"I just have one warning for you. Say you can only do healing magic."

"What?" Feliciano asked. He had heard the question but he couldn't guess at the meaning.

"Just say you only heal," Toris whispered.

Feliciano nodded. There was something there, in Toris' strange conviction on the matter, some hidden knowledge that Feli couldn't help but notice.

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><p>Captain Ivan Bragniski of the Ekaal Amry was in a cheerful enough mood. Of course, his dear Toris had come back, from the dead it seemed. And he had brought with him a Healer. He stared at the... well, Healers were usually women, weren't they? He stared at her.<p>

Her face was round and she looked healthy, brought up on regular meals, though skinny. Her wide, doleful eyes expressed an innocence and shyness that he often recognized in girls of her age. Her cheeks were reddended as well, but Ivan guessed that was more from sunburn than blush.

She tried to shirk his gaze. Ivan wondered why they always did that. He was only _looking,_ after all.

"You are a Healer?" He asked.

"Ye-Yes sir!" She shook.

"You healed my Toris' wound?"

"Yes."

"I see. And what is your name?"

A pause, then, "Feli."

"Hm... Then I take it, you'd like to join me, Feli?"

A deep breath, then, "Yes."

Ivan hummed to himself. It always put him in a good mood when someone willingly wanted to joined his little campaign.

He turned his attention to Toris. Ever loyal Toris. He had almost lost him. He's probably have to be more careful about that. "Tell Natalia." The soldier nodded and left.

Then he conducted his attention back to the Healer.

"You will not object to sharing accommodations with my sister?"

The Healer shook her head.

Ivan clapped his hands. "Then everything is ready."

He watched the Healer leave the the room. She seemed nice enough and Ivan's heart leapt. It wasn't always that easy to make a new friend.

But still, there was something off about her. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was there, seemingly just under the surface. Perhaps all people who could use magic had that special aura about them. His sister, Natalia, definitely did. And if it turned out that it wasn't just magic, Ivan would deal with it accordingly.

Then Ivan turned his attention to battle plans and all else was lost to his lurid concentration.

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><p>Feliciano took a big sigh of relief. So the captain hadn't known he was a Thender; he had managed to keep his true identity a mystery.<p>

But... how long could he keep it that way? The captain was scary and Feliciano got the feeling the man did not know how scary he really was.

And what did Feli know about armies anyway? There had been some armed men at him home, Altemoré, when he had been there-perhaps around the size of a militia-but Feli had never been explicitly involved in their affairs. He also recollected that this particular army was from Ekaal. He was grateful that he had at least joined Lovino for some of his lessons.

_There were some hours of the week that Feliciano was called in, away from his painting, to study with his older brother. It had been explained to him that all the children of Altemoré had such lessons and why should the then second heir of the land be exempt from that? _

_In truth Feliciano did like lessons although he was not as sharp or as quick as his brother was. However, his favorite of these lessons had to be geography for the simple reason that it was taught by his grandfather. _

_"Now then," his grandfather started, "you're well acquainted with Ekaal, aren't you Lovino?" _

_"Duh, we only went over it half a dozen times yesterday." _

_"Well, then, why don't you explain it to Feli?" _

_"What's to explain? It's the biggest country on the continent- currently." _

_"Ah yes," his grandfather caught this little nuance of speech, "and why do you say currently?" _

_"You know damn well." His brother scowled. "Altemoré used to be the biggest!" _

_"True, true." The old man nodded. And, as if he were suddenly changing the subject, asked, "And what surrounds Ekaal?" _

_Lovino humphed. It looked like he would be teacher-surogate to his little brother. "To the north-west it borders the North Lands, and due south is Ketre. However, since the dissolution of the Mysgania Empire, there's currently all this empty land on its western side." _

_"It's not empty," Grandpa Rome reproached, "there are farmers and towns and perhaps much more than we have in Altemoré. However, what do you think will happen to that land now that Mysgania has fallen?" _

_This earned another humph from the pupil. "Looks like a big country like Ekaal will take over. Though Ketre or Huld could just as easily move in. I doubt Sussa would though- they're always neutral." _

_"Good, good." The old man once again nodded. _

_"But you know," Lovino went on, "I don't see why we don't have a claim to those lands just like everyone else. Why don't we start taking over lands again? Why don't you do something about that?" Feliciano knew this question was directed at his grandfather, the patriarch and ruler of Altemoré. _

_The old man sighed. "If only you knew how hard it is ruling over so much land, then maybe Lovino, you would be content with Altemoré's current state... but let's go on. What is Ekaal's chief export?" _

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><p>Feliciano was broken out of his reverie by the soldier. "Here we are," the soldier directed him to a tent on the edge of the encampment. The two went through the fabric door and were instantly emerged in a world of medical supplies. The smell was a strong one-reeking of cleanliness and herbal remedies.<p>

In the middle of this sterilized plane stood a woman, or perhaps girl was a more fitting word. And what a cute girl she was. Her hair as pale as the mountain tops, her frock complimenting her girlish figure. Her eyes-

She was glaring. Feliciano stood still, as the girl took out a knife and slammed it into a table.

"Let me get one thing straight," her whisper was venomous, "I know you're no woman." Forget the captain! This was the _scary _one.

"However," she continued and her lips curled into a vicious grin, "That works to my advantage."

Feliciano felt his skin crawl.

She plucked the knife from the table and pointed it at him. "I'll make you a deal. I'll keep your little secret if you do something for me."

Feliciano nodded. He didn't think he'd make it out of there alive if he didn't.

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><p>AN: Hello again. Not much to say. If you're having a hard time imagining this fantasy world, imagine it as a super-condensed version of Europe.


	4. Anything and Everything

Chapter 3 _Anything and Everything_

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><p>What Natalia asked wasn't all that difficult. He was simply to keep an eye on Ivan and report back anything ("Anything?" "Everything!") that he did. He supposed Natalia, inundated with healing injured soldiers, wasn't able to keep up with the news in camp.<p>

At least he wanted to suppose that, but every so often, when he'd spot Natalia and Ivan (always flanked by a guard) together, a few warning signals went off. Namely, what was Ivan's relationship to the mysterious and violent Natalia.

But he didn't have time to think about it too much. The girl also showed him around the healing tent, his quarters, and (the most important one to Feli) where the meals were served.

He became a sort of assistant to her, handing her various medical supplies when she called for them. They didn't exactly get along, Feli thought you'd have to be at least on friendly terms to get along, but they worked well together and Feliciano breathed a sigh of relief for that. At the end of his first day, he was exhausted, and equally thankful for the cot provided to him in a screened off section of the tent. He slept well.

That day hadn't been too hectic, simply healing small injuries incurred from marching. Natalia had explained to him that they weren't at war. At least, not yet.

"They'll come in with tired feet or maybe a scratch from training," she said, nonchalantly, "but this isn't even a taste of it. Once we meet up with another army, that's when the real job begins." Her voice became exceedingly dark at that time, and Feli hadn't felt like questioning her about _other_ armies.

Just what were they fighting for though? He kept that question in his head as he handed Natalia some bandages. She wrapped them around a soldier's ankle, not gently, but carefully. Her movements were well calculated, and Feli guessed that she had been doing this sort of thing for a while.

He came to respect her at that moment, and perhaps respect was just another way to fear someone-and that he did-but respecting her seemed like the best course of action. She had her space and he kept his distance in more ways than just his feet.

But the best part of the whole arrangement for Feliciano had to be the food. Sure, it was mostly soup and bread, but it was free! And it was half way decent at that! Feliciano relished his lunch minutes as he dipped the delicate bread into the rather thin soup. He hadn't been on a regular meal schedule for weeks and his stomach at least had adapted to that. Not his tastebuds but his stomach. It was food. It was something. He smiled while he ate.

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><p>The Healing tent was the only tent that was guarded at night. It seemed that every soldier, otherwise, had the same accommodations-a tent that a number of soldiers slept in. The captain also shared his tent with soldiers. "It feels nice to sleep with others," the captain had said in passing once, and Feli caught onto the one part that they agreed on.<p>

When they had to march, the whole army took part in dismantling the tents and other miscellaneous articles. Then everyone carried a part with them. It was certainly organized by Feli's observation. Feli also learned that there was no rank in the army. Everyone there was simply a soldier. He wondered how an army could function with such a simple system, but then realized the simplicity allowed it to function in such a way. Everyone was assigned to their duties and everyone knew what they were doing. There was no vying for a higher position, there was no one simply out for glory. It was for the cause and Ivan kept it that way.

Feliciano walked next to Toris when he could. They engaged in small talk to while away the drudgery of walking, but for some reason Toris' eye would always be focused on Natalia. She walked next to Ivan, complete with guard detail, her steps were fierce and pronounced.

Feli started to think of Natalia as a snow leopard that Ivan kept locked in a cage. She would gently but eagerly pace that cage looking for a way to get out. If she ever found one, which he doubted, the first thing she'd do with that freedom would be to pounce on Ivan.

That was where Feli's imaginings stopped. He did not want think of what that 'pouncing' might amount to.

When they finally stopped the daylight was just starting to fade away. The medical tent was erected in a matter of mere minutes and Feli and Natalia resumed their tasks as always. Feliciano observed they were in a small sort of valley next to a hill. The earth was soft, as if it had rained some time ago. By the time he caught a break from the setting up, the stars were out, the milky way leading a procession of stars across the sky.

It was not an entirely bad situation to be in, Feli thought.

But then, he hadn't started his real job yet.

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><p>Feliciano woke to the sound of gunfire off in the distance. It was early in the morning and from the noises around him he guessed Natalia wasn't up yet, or else she wasn't in the tent altogether. The shots made him shake and want to run. But where?<p>

He stood and walked to the main section of the tent. No one was there. Panic started to set over him. What if they had left everything and the enemy was coming over that hill? Then he'd be nothing more than a sitting duck and-

Natalia came through the door. Her expression was that of a stone, as if the sounds of the battle did not affect her at all (and Feli thought, maybe they didn't). She looked at him then set her tasks on arranging the various contents on the desks.

"We should be expecting the first wave soon," she said, her tone as monotonous as her expression.

Without knowing why, Feli's hands shook. It could have been from the anticipation, it could have been from the noise, but all he could think about was if his powers would work when he needed them to. At once a fear gripped him. It was a familiar fear, one he had known all his life. His legs would shake and feel as if they would bolt at the slightest disturbance. Doubt.

It happened so fast. A wounded soldier was brought in and he heard Natalia bark at him before she moved to the patient's side. He got the necessary supplies, but had to be guided to the patient's side. He had to be told to use his powers to heal the gaping wound on the soldier's side.

And then time went faster. He was using his powers, he was conjuring the threads and trying to get them untangled as he tied them back together again. But he couldn't get the threads tied together fast enough. The man screamed in agony and Feliciano lost concentration. The threads became unraveled.

Lost in his stupor, Feli did not feel the hand across his chest until it was too late. He was pushed aside, as Natalia assumed his position by the soldier and he became merely an onlooker. He saw how she calmly restored the threads, not flinching at a single scream or shout.

Natalia was cold to almost everyone, but perhaps that worked to her advantage.

He was told as much after the soldier was healed and carted away. "You care too much!" The girl scolded him.

There were no words in Feliciano's mouth.

"Let them scream."

Again, no words came.

"Pathetic!" She whispered and turned her back to the him.

In order not to relive such an experience, Feli devoted himself to his healing duties. In his spare time he trained, healing small cuts that had been inflicted on himself by his negligence for his surroundings. He did not become any faster, but at least he became better. When a patient came in, large gashes on his torso or limbs, he did not flinch. When the screaming started, he remained calm. The threads tied together with little effort, seeking their other halves and reconnecting.

Feliciano breathed a sigh of relief as he hit his mattress.

One day down. An indefinite number of days to go. It would be hard, but he could get used to it if he really tried.

* * *

><p>Blood. There was blood everywhere. The cots were stained with blood, the bandages that lay on tangles on the floor were coated with it and the front of Natalia's apron was dyed a light crimson.<p>

It wasn't that Feliciano was afraid of blood, or felt an inherent queasiness to it, but the mere amount of it was staggering. He breathed and inhaled the coppery scent. There was no way around it and he lost track of the days as he wandered through that scent.

Meal time was a scant reprieve to him. During that time, he would sit next to Toris, who was the only person in the army that he felt he had some connection to beyond being a Healer.

"I never asked," he said as he slurped down his soup, "What you were fighting for."

The soldier looked at him with surprise. "Fighting for?"

He nodded.

Toris leaned back. "The simple answer is we're claiming land left over from the collapse of Mysgania.

The former empire of Mysgania. Feliciano nodded. He understood. There had been fighting ever since the empire's downfall years ago.

"But the other answer is that each of us is fighting for their own thing. I want to see a world where everyone is equal." He had an airy look on his face, as if he was replaying a memory in his head. "That's why I'm here, in the army anyway."

Feliciano popped a piece of bread into his mouth as he mulled over Toris' explanation. He didn't have much time to chew, however, as the soldier looked at him with an intense look.

"Is it hard being a Thender?"

The question seemed to come from nowhere and Feli swallowed his bread. "H-hard? What do you mean?"

"I mean," he drew a breath, "Is your life difficult? Were you exiled from your home?"

Feliciano stared at him in astonishment. How could he know such a thing? Feli racked his mind, but couldn't think of an instance when he had told the other about his fate.

"I'm sorry if I'm being too forward. It probably isn't my place."

"Y-yes. I mean, no, it's alright and yes. I was exiled."

The answer hardly seemed to surprise Toris.

"But I don't know if my life is hard or not. I mean, it's not as easy as I remember it being, but it's not so difficult that I..." He couldn't find the words to fill in.

Toris let it pass.

Feliciano looked down at his plate. It was virtually empty, which meant that his time off was coming to a swift close. "I mean, I'm not unhappy, if that's what you mean."

Toris smiled. It was a sad sort of smile, but the first one Feli had seen all day.

It was during his medical duty that he saw Toris again that day. This time he wasn't smiling. He whispered to Natalia-a few words that he couldn't hear in all the commotion of the tent-and then his gaze went straight to Feli. Natalia's followed.

"You're needed at the front." Natalia stood before Feliciano, her gaze as cold and steely as ever.

"Me?"

She led him by the arm to the entrance of the tent. "I'm not going to lie. I would go, but your powers are stronger than mine."

He wanted to take it as a compliment, but everything was going so fast. "The front? Where the fighting is?"

"Don't waste any more time," she scolded, "Follow Toris and go."

He looked back at her. "Should I-"

Her eyes turned murderous. "Just go."

Toris led him, trudging along on the muddied path. Feliciano wondered why he had felt so safe at camp. In actuality, it wasn't that far from the battle. Already they were cresting the hill that overlooked the scene.

Feliciano looked down. His first impression of a warzone was that he couldn't see much. There was a lot of smoke, a lot of scrambling and he couldn't get a general feel for what was happening, which side was winning or even which person was on which side.

Regardless, he followed Toris down, and hoped that no stray projectiles would strike them.

On the ground, things seemed clearer. Toris led him to a safe place, or as safe as it could be, far behind the battle line. Feliciano crouched down. Toris hadn't told him to, but he felt less at vulnerable that way.

"The injured will be brought to you," he said briskly. "Then they'll be brought to Natalia."

"O-okay," Feli answered in a shaky voice.

Toris turned to him.

"Try to do the best you can." It was the first time Feli noticed that Toris had kind eyes. Soft brown eyes that didn't look as if they would hurt anything. Feli wondered why such a person would be fighting in the first place.

"I will."

* * *

><p>The first couple of troops that made their way to him weren't too worse for wear. Then they started to come in greater and greater numbers and he hardly had time to heal one mortal injury before another one seemed to materialize out of thin air. Close-by the sound of battle was enough to nearly drown out Feli's own thoughts.<p>

He needed to think of something. In the quick moment in between healing soldiers he looked up and studied the battlefield. Now he knew who the enemies were, standing their ground at the far side of the field. He could almost make out the imaginary line of earth that separated one side from the other.

The men were getting weaker now. With each new arrival, the wounds got deeper and more brutal. Feli tried not to think, he tried to focus on healing, but it was draining him. Didn't anyone know that Weavers only had a finite amount of magic available at any given time? Sure it could be replenished, but only with rest. He didn't think he would be getting any rest soon. They came in droves and he tried to heal the best he could before they were shipped off to the main camp. It was exhausting, the labor taxing his very soul.

In the middle of healing someone Feli felt a hand on his shoulder. Normally, he would have jumped, but he was too tired to do so.

"You've done well," he heard a voice that sounded familiarly like Toris. "Please take a rest. Someone will cover for you."

Feliciano didn't need to be told twice. He finished healing the wound, retying the threads that the soldier had, and then he lay down on the ground, totally spent. It didn't matter that he was on a battlefield. He needed rest.

No one bothered him and he lost track of the time as he recuperated his strength. It could have been a few minutes or a few hours, but out of nowhere, he heard yelling. There was a general rush around him and he could feel the panic in the air.

"Pull back!" He heard someone yell. Before he knew what was happening, he was on his feet. Every instinct told him to run but he didn't. He watched everyone move past him, but still he didn't move. At a distance he could see the enemy closing in, but still it didn't inspire him to run.

He was scared but beyond the point of flight. His senses became acute and he could feel the vibrations of the footsteps that surrounded him, that were running towards him. His arms started to tremble but his feet stayed planted to the ground. His eyes refused to focus on the enemy soldiers. Instead they focused on the glint of sunshine on the fields beyond, marred with ripped turf and strewn with bodies. He would die if he stayed still any longer; already, they were coming closer, but his body couldn't move, fascinated by the sight. It was almost as if he was absorbing moment, the rush, the pure chaos.

All of a sudden, he felt a new rush, this time coming from inside himself. A great power surged through him and all at once he wasn't afraid or tired or weak. He could feel it, that wonderful, unnamable thing giving him power and giving him hope.

That great power shot through him, the threads making themselves known, glowing, reaching out their tendrils to touch the lip of the universe.

He concentrated, trying carefully to not get the threads knotted. He focused on air and felt the threads move through him, his whole body becoming weightless. It seemed to last an eternity as he gathered the threads, but it only took a breath and a great wind roared toward the enemy soldiers.

* * *

><p>Toris turned his head, just in time to see a vortex knock the other army off their feet. His heart leapt in sheer awe. Then it sank in recognition. He had known about Weavers, Thenders especially. His best friend had been one.<p>

The raw force of the wind still echoed in his rib cage long after it had dissolved into nothing. He could see the panic it had caused and surmised that his fellow company would be considering it a victory and were in the throes of ecstasy. But he could just make out, when the crowd thinned around him, the figure of a crouching young person clad in gray.

A person whose secrets had just been painfully revealed.


	5. Intermission: Toris' Promise

Chapter 4 _Toris' Promise_

* * *

><p>It hadn't been too long ago since Toris had left his town, a small municipality located on the western border of Ekaal. He had left furious and confused and lonely. In some ways Toris was <em>still<em> furious, confused and lonely. He had tried to forget about that town and the animosity he felt for it, but he still had that feeling, a great trench that he threw all his sorrows into.

Toris grew up neither rich nor poor. His family was decidedly middle of the road and it had been that way as long as anyone had known. They had lived in the same place for generations and not one of his forebears had thought to improve his or her station in life. Perhaps they were not risk takers and that was very common in a town that was also neither rich nor poor, on the border of Ekaal and the North Lands. And so Toris had grown up not expecting much.

And it was true, through most of his youth he did not want for anything, but also wanted very little. This created some tension inside of him-tension that he could not describe and couldn't begin to name. He passed the days by languidly, walking the hills that surrounded his town. He'd go to the top of one hill, the tallest, and observe the happenings below. He would sit on the yellow grass and think and watch the clouds go by. He knew his station in life, and although he was not unhappy, he was not very content.

It was during one of these languorous hours that he met someone who was just like him, and in so many ways, and in so many other ways, not.

"Like, this is my spot, get your own," the stranger said, looking at the sky and not bothering to face Toris. However, the latter knew who this was. It was a small town after all. Everyone knew everyone else.

"But I was here first," Toris replied, dropping onto the side of the hill before the other could make a word of protest. He saw his companion's cheeks puff in annoyance.

It was Feliks Łukasiewicz, the eccentric son of the tailor. People guessed, because of his father's line of work, he wore woman's clothing as a sort of way to advertise his father's latest creations. Currently he was sporting some kind of pink skirt with a lacy trim, which Toris found to be quite atrocious.

"Hmph!" Feliks rolled onto his side.

Toris had only a minute to wait until Feliks got bored with his ministrations and rolled over again. Which was exactly what he did.

"Hey," Feliks said, "Wanna see something cool?"

This piqued Toris' interest. He did not even have to say the affirmative, as Feliks was already motioning something. His hands started to glow and suddenly the grass around them flew to the sky like golden confetti. To Toris, it seemed to be lifted by the wind, but it was so unnatural an occurrence that his eyes would not let him look away from the vortex of flying leaves until they descended to the ground.

After the last leaves had returned to the earth, his gaze turned to Feliks, who had just opened his eyes, as if waking from a deep sleep and a peaceful dream.

"How did you do that?" He asked.

"Magic," Feliks winked.

Toris had heard of Weavers before. There might have been one or two that came through the town on a regular basis, but they had never done anything like the preceding incident.

"No really," Toris inquired.

"Like- do I have to repeat myself?" Feliks gave him a look that told him that he was stupid for asking such a thing. "Just don't go, like, telling the whole world I can do this, okay?"

Toris had been cynical before, now he was completely unbelieving.

"Why wouldn't you want to tell anyone? That was cool! It was incredible. I mean, I don't know a lot about Weavers, but they must have a special school or something for them. You'd probably get to go and everything. You could be like one of those cool wizards in the stories." Toris stopped himself there, his speech was starting to resemble that of his companion's.

Feliks rolled his eyes. "I know that much, thanks. But I dunno, I don't know if I'll like having to do stuff like this on a daily basis. I mean, that thing you just saw there was just a one time thing, y'know. I'm not doing it again."

"But still..."

"You just don't get it, do you?"

"Don't get what?"

"What I just did. Manipulating the wind and the grass like that. That isn't something a male Weaver can do. I know. I've asked."

Toris did not know a lot about Weaving so the importance was lost on him. He let it show. "What does that mean?"

Feliks sighed in irritation. "It means I'm a Thender."

Thender... Toris knew he'd heard that word before, but he'd have to look it up. He wasn't about to ask Feliks to explain it. The other would probably think he was stupid or something (if he didn't think that already).

"And one more thing," the self-procalimed Thender went on. "Promise you won't tell anybody. I'm like, totally being serious here."

Toris was met with a penetrating look.

"I won't," he said.

Sometime later he looked up the word Thender in the town library. It was in an old and dusty dictionary, relegated to a dark corner where no one seemed to have traversed since the book had been placed on the shelf there. With the word's definition, Toris didn't wonder why the other didn't want him going around telling everybody. He understood that being a Thender was one of those secret things and he could not imagine how the town might react to such an enigma.

Toris kept his mouth shut.

And so the two met on the grassy knoll, exchanging stories and town gossip. It wasn't an entirely disagreeable way of spending an afternoon, and every now and again Feliks would show him his strange and wonderful powers.

"Y'know, you should really tie your hair back," Feliks said one day, as the two were laying and watching the clouds float by on their daily procession across the sky.

Toris didn't know how to react to such advice. He was hardly what they'd call a dandy. "What do you mean?"

Feliks sat up and took his hair into his hands. "Like, ya know, this hair makes you look like a hobo or something. Turn around." And before Toris could refuse the hairs of his scalp were at the mercy of Feliks, who was surprisingly gentle (if not thorough) in his assault.

"There we go." Feliks smirked as he finished.

Toris turned back to face him. There was no longer that sensation of loose strands tickling his face, or that swish when he turned his head. He felt lighter somehow. He felt freer.

"Th-thanks."

"Seriously, it was gag me with a spoon the way it was. You're doing me a favor keeping it up like that."

Toris had had many friends, but never a best friend, who could say anything to him without being offensive (or rather being offensive but knowing he meant well when he said such things). He supposed he had one now.

And so Toris kept his hair up, and tried to look a little neater in Feliks' presence. Toris' poor mother, thinking about all the care he put into his appearance nowadays, must have thought he was meeting a girl in the hills. _If __only __she __knew_, Toris thought. _But __what __if __she __knew? __I'm __meeting __a __Weaver, __and __a __Thender __at __that, __in __those __hills._

But Toris, far from being ashamed, was happy about that little facet in his life. It was something new and exciting, something illicit and maybe dangerous, as if he were hiding a fugitive. In those afternoon hours, he'd form elaborate plans with his friend Feliks. Once they were adults they'd travel around the whole continent. Perhaps there were places more open-minded than their town, where Feliks would be able to practice his magic in complete safety. And Toris would be his back-up, a body guard of sorts, and perhaps more than anything, the level-headed of the pair.

However, as with all things blissful and fulfilling, it was not to last. Feliks stopped coming to the grassy hill. Toris began to wonder, when three days had elapsed, just what had happened to his friend. For that reason, he knocked on the tailor's door.

"Is Felix Łukasiewicz here?" He inquired.

The tailor, for that was who opened the door, looked at him perplexed. "You must be mistaken."

No it was Toris' turn to look puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"There is no Feliks Łukasiewicz here."

"But he's your son. Only three days ago I saw him-" And the door was promptly shut in his face.

Toris was in a dejected mood when he returned home. He did not want to eat. He felt that he was going insane or that some ill omen had passed over him.

His mother must have noticed that, she was the type to notice all the little nuances of her life, and she approached him when he had retired to his room.

"It was that Thender, wasn't it?" Toris started at the words. Not only had he not been expecting them, but he had not expected the tone either. His mother had said it in a way that she only used when saying something vulgar. A sort of whispered, skirting around the word.

"Feliks!" He said at once. His mother nodded and then told him a story of how she had followed him to the hills, eager to see the reason for his exploits and had seen only strange and unnatural magic and instead.

"What's strange and unnatural about it?" Toris could not believe the claim.

"Men cannot do such things," his mother had said and it seemed obvious she wanted to leave it there. She was a mousy person and did not like to go into details about things that made her uncomfortable. "I told Mr. Łukasiewicz about the incident."

And then it all seemed to make sense to Toris. In this town, this normal, average town, there was no room for something as unique and beautiful as Feliks. His mother and the tailor had done what they saw fit to preserve that sense of propriety. They had gotten rid of the only thing that was different.

"How could you?" He asked more at the town than he did his mother. He ran out of the room, down the streets, before his mother could start up again. He knew where he was running, or at least his feet knew. He made it to the edge of town and kept his pace. After about half an hour he had to start walking, and then, when he could no longer do that, he collapsed, and started up the minute he woke. At noon the next day he found the figure, walking on the desolate road.

"Feliks!" He yelled, his voice had turned hoarse from over-exertion.

His friend did not say a word to him, only continued on.

"Feliks!" He tried again, this time louder, so that his throat was under intense strain.

Feliks turned around and looked at him, a look so cold and intense that at first Toris thought that he had made a mistake. That this was not Feliks but altogether a stranger.

"What do you want?" The stranger said in Feliks' voice.

"Where are you going?"

"You told on me, remember? You tell me."

Then Toris understood.

"Told... I didn't tell on you. It was my mother- she- I-, oh please tell me where you're going?"

"It doesn't concern you," Feliks answered coldly. The playfulness had been wiped from his eyes, what remained was something Toris could not recognize.

All other attempts to make contact were similarly brushed off.

Toris tried to follow, but as his steps became more labored, Feliks' only became more hurried. He eventually lost track of the other and was forced to turn back.

The journey back, however, was fraught with difficulties. It rained and cold winds rushed down from the north. Toris' body shivered and the clothes he had been wearing were hardly fit to handle such weather. It was only a matter of time that his body crumpled to the ground, to the dismay of his mind. He tasted dirt and felt the wind beat against his back, but he was too weak to even move a few inches. Sleep- his body wanted sleep and warmth and food. He hadn't eaten for days.

In his half-crazed thoughts he remembered the hills that surrounded his town and the indescribable warmth attained from laying in the grass. That had been lovely, something so ordinary, something so rare. He felt warm just thinking about it.

And then he felt a nudge. A gentle push.

"Hey, like, you're not dead are you?"

"Feliks?" He asked, weakly.

"Like duh, who else would be out in this weather?"

"You-how?"

Toris felt stronger now. He sat up and was able to look at his friend in the face. The wind was still harsh and the rain still beat down on him, but a soft warm light wrapped around them both. The light seemed to come from Feliks, who was looking at him like he was the biggest fool in the world.

"Don't push yourself. I'm not doing that again."

Somehow Toris got back to his village with Feliks supporting his weight. When they got to the outer gates, the Weaver stopped.

"This is as far as I go," Feliks said.

"No," Toris said. "You have to come. I'll tell them all about how you saved me and-"

"Totally just shut up!" Feliks snapped. "I'm not going in there. Like, drop it."

"But..." Toris said hopelessly.

"Listen. Like, I don't look like it, but I read a lot. And you know, I read things about Thenders as well. Duh. I am one. And you know what, all Thenders are exiles. You totally don't have to understand why. It's some kind of ancient supernatural belief or whatever. But I can't go back there. And before you start up again I'm telling you that I don't even care about never going home again. I'm, like, free okay? I don't have to be a tailor's son and work in this hick town-no offense-I get to see the world and that jazz. So like, just go okay? I'll be totally fine."

For some reason, Toris felt his feet move before his mind could protest.

He never saw his friend Feliks again.

* * *

><p>He went home to retrieve his personal items. His mother pleaded him to stay but he would not hear a word of it. He stayed at the local inn, taking on odd jobs to pay for the rent. The second Ivan's army passed into town, he was gone.<p>

Feliks was seeing the world. Why couldn't he?

* * *

><p>AN: Hi there. I thought I'd explore more of this world by adding short stories throughout. I mean, Feliciano's perspective would only have so much to tell about the backstory of some of these characters. Thus, I have a few short stories to disperse throughout the narrative. Don't worry, though. We'll get back to the main story next chapter. Until then, thanks for reading.


	6. Intentions

Chapter 5 _Intentions_

* * *

><p>Feliciano sat still on the battlefield for a very long time. Even after his fellow soldiers rushed in and claimed victory on a wizened enemy, he still sat, exactly where he had been.<p>

He wasn't sure what had come over him. It could have been the stress from healing so much of the wounded, it could have been the surprise at the enemy's charge. It could have been none of those things. He had used his true powers, the powers he was blessed with, cursed with, as a Thender.

The power to heal and cause harm.

* * *

><p>From the crest of the hill overlooking the battlefield, Feliciano's powers did not go unnoticed. A slight smile tugged at the lips of the observer, a smile that was innocent and cruel all at once.<p>

* * *

><p>Toris helped Feliciano back to camp. It was dark by the time they returned and they navigated the muddy trails in total silence to concentrate on where they were going.<p>

"I'm sorry," Feliciano whispered as they approached the tents.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for using my magic."

Toris shook his head.

"You told me not to, and I still used it."

Toris again shook his head again. "Don't apologize. I might not be here if you hadn't done that. That magic... I've never seen such power before. Even with enemy Weavers... but you are a Thender after all. I should have known."

"But you said-"

Toris sighed. "It was more for your benefit than mine that I said those things. I for one am thankful for you for doing that. However, the others might not take so kindly to Thenders in their midst." Toris turned to him, his expression serious. "Tell me you'll take care of yourself."

Feliciano nodded. He had intended to all along.

* * *

><p>A few days went by without incident. Feliciano returned to his duties as a healer in the tent, alongside Natalia. If the woman was aware of the powers he had used to turn the course of the battle, she never let on. She treated him more or less the same and Feli never thought he would be so happy for that.<p>

Sometimes soldiers would come up to him and congratulate him on his victory, but Feli would always shrug and say that it wasn't his victory, that he wasn't a soldier and that he had only done it as a last resort.

Other than that, no one talked about the affair. Feli guessed they were too busy readying themselves for the next battle after so narrow a win from the last one. Whatever the case, Ekaal had just gained a few more precious lands in its campaign and everyone was of the general opinion that some rest and training were what was necessary now.

It was on one night, however, as he was making his way back to the healing tent when he was pulled aside by an entourage of soldiers he didn't recognize.

"Ivan wishes to speak to you," one said.

"Captain Ivan?" Feli inquired.

The soldier nodded. There was little expression in the gesture and Feli got an ominous feeling.

"But what does he want with me?" Feliciano wasn't sure why he had asked such a thing out loud. He knew what Ivan wanted.

To his surprise, the soldiers didn't lead him to the Captain's Tent, but out of the camp altogether. They walked on a large road, that might have been a sort of high way, until they came to what looked like a farmhouse. The soldiers walked further, to the far end of the field.

There, the captain was waiting for them. Ivan nodded, and the men dispersed into the darkness.

"Glad you could join me." Ivan smiled. He seemed genuinely happy. Feliciano somehow found that unsettling.

"I-" Feliciano started, not sure what question to ask first.

"Shh... All will be revealed shortly."

Feliciano's lips closed.

"It really surprised me, that magic you used the other day. At first I thought it was some kind of weather phenomenon. But then I saw you, in the middle of it all, and then I felt a little silly."

"Silly?"

"Yes. I was silly for not realizing it earlier."

"Realizing-"

"Well now my sweet Healer," Captain Ivan went on, cutting him off. "Or should I say, Weaver?"

Feliciano froze.

Ivan stifled a laugh. "I knew my dear sister would never let another woman get close to me. And a Thender as well," Ivan's eyes gleamed. "But enough. Do you know why you're here, Weaver?"

Feliciano shook his head.

Ivan frowned. "These farmers refuse to share with us and their neighbors. I hate it when people don't get along." His voice sounded childish, innocent, and yet somehow... "I want you to burn this field."

"W-what?"

"They will not share so we'll have to teach them a lesson."

Feliciano did not even have to consider it. "But I-I can't"

Ivan turned to him. The frown creased his lips. "But don't you think its unfair that they won't share? They are selfish and greedy people, taking more than they need. We must have order if our army is to win- these farmers simply won't do."

Feliciano could scarcely breathe. "I can't. I can't. It's against all my teachings at San-"

"The Valis Sanctuary, wasn't it?"

Feliciano started. "How did you know that?"

"You do not think that I wouldn't want to know everything about my new friend, would you?"

He could think of nothing to say.

"I like to know everything about new friends. The places they were born, for instance."

Feliciano looked at the Captain with rapt attention. How could he know that-

"You full name is Feliciano Vargas isn't it? Of the Altemoré lands."

Feliciano was aghast, but held on. "N-no. My family cast me out... I... have no family name."

"But still, you come from a powerful family. I suppose that makes me pretty powerful as well, to know their little secret."

Feliciano was silent. He hadn't thought about his family in a long time. He hadn't thought about the pain that was associated with them in a long time.

"I will tell you, Feliciano-if that is indeed what you like to be called-refusing me is selfish as well. I tell you I like to know a lot about my friends, but my favorite thing is knowing I can trust them. Can I trust you, Feliciano?"

Feliciano did not know what to say. He would never follow an order that hurt innocent people, but at the same time Captain Ivan scared him to the very limits of his bravery, which wasn't very much in the first place.

"You can do offensive magic as well, Feliciano?"

"Y-yes." The sweat collected on his brow. He held his chin to neck.

The Captain seemed to consider this for a long time. Then he nodded. "Very well. Just knowing that you can is enough." Then the man put to fingers to his lips and whistled. Soldiers emerged from the woods carrying torches and within minutes the fields and farm house were on fire.

Ivan looked at him and said nothing. Nothing needed to be said. Feliciano understood perfectly.

* * *

><p>Feliciano tossed and turned that night. It wasn't that he was in the grips of a nightmare: he would have preferred that, letting the dreams take over his consciousness. He wished he could have been in dormant paralysis, but his mind was still fully awake. Fire filled his mind's eye, eating the farm house and the fields around it. He thought of the farmers. Had they made it out of the burning farm okay? He hadn't seen any figures running out in the darkness. A hope filled him, maybe they hadn't been at home at the time. Then a thought occurred, maybe they had been asleep, maybe they hadn't even noticed the flames engulfing them until it was too late.<p>

He felt sick. Just what were Ivan's goals? He hadn't thought to ask. Now questions filled his head and they would not let him sleep.

Restlessly, Feliciano mulled over these ideas until they were too much to take. He tried to think of something.

_"The world is composed of threads. Men make the threads, woman tie the threads. Without the other, both would be useless."_

_He could remember his teacher's face. When he had first met him, he had mistaken him for a Thender. Priest Yao looked like a woman. He even dressed like one, on occasion one would witness the splendor of his long and flashy robes. It had taken longer for Feliciano to notice that the priest even behaved like one. His teacher was privy to other's emotions in the way that, before that time, Feliciano thought only woman could be. He would instantly sense an emotional disturbance in one of his pupils. Perhaps that was why he had asked Feliciano kindly to take a break from lessons so they could talk. _

_"But I am both," Feliciano had said, his tone more lonely than prideful. _

_"Yes, a beginning and an end." _

_An end... Feliciano didn't want to be an end, but his teacher's eyes glowed so he listened to more. _

_"We each have a spool of thread in us," he said. " We each use this spool. It is our lifeforce, it is our soul. However, not everyone is aware of this spool. They mistake it for other things and it becomes shrouded in its own mystery. Only a few realize this potential thread and even fewer know how to use it. Those few are called Weavers. Of them only the men can create threads, only women can connect them._

_"And the rarest of all is one who can do both." _

_His teacher had smiled at him and offered him food. He had accepted, he loved his teacher's cooking. And it sure beat Priest Kirkland's._

* * *

><p>AN: Hello again. Thanks for reading. I'm really glad people are following my excuse for a fantasy story. As I've said, I'm not the most ardent fantasy fan, so I really don't have a lot of experience with the genre, but as long as nobody is saying they're confused out of their mind I suppose I'm doing something right. I know I also marked this as a romance but there's still some chapters to go before that happens.


	7. Useless

Chapter 6 _Useless_

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><p>The following days passed by without much incident. They marched South and Feliciano found himself falling into the old routine again. Everything seemed to be the same as ever, Natalia, Toris, the food, and yet something nagged at the back of his mind.<p>

He tried to forget about his talk with Ivan, about the farm house, but he couldn't. Every time he saw the captain he saw blazing fields, fire dancing in those purple eyes. It chilled him.

He tried to focus on the scenery. Mountains loomed in the distance, breaking up the plainness of the farmlands. Tiny clusters of the flowers grew on the side of the road, and for the first time in a very long time, he had a desire to paint something. Anything. He'd been starved for even a pencil here. And yet, somehow painting, drawing, art, it all linked him to his past and those listless days when Grandpa was always there with a smile to see his latest artwork. There was something painful about even writing his name now. Especially his name.

They had been walking since midmorning. The sky was the peerless blue of early fall. Already he could feel a rush of cold air coming down from the North. Feliciano tried to imagine himself marching in snow drifts with Ivan's army. He tried to imagine a snowy battlefield and holding his own against the onslaught of those faceless enemy soldiers. Was that really something he could do, he wondered. Already he had proven himself as a worthy Healer for such an army, but he couldn't imagine himself as a soldier, going into the heat of the battle, not knowing if he would come back alive or not.

He tried to tell himself that his fears were unfounded, that they were marching South, not North, and given the chance of running away or becoming a soldier, he would pick the latter. Still, his fears stayed with him, clasped to chest like a brooch and given the monotony of the march, there was little he could do to outrun his fears.

Instead, he turned his attention to a soldier walking with him. This one seemed fairly young, younger than Feli even. He held that same expression that Toris had had when he had first met him, one of utter dejectedness. Knowing that he didn't have anything to lose but his anxiety, Feliciano chanced conversation.

"Y-you're the Healer, right?" The boy asked, before Feli could say a word.

"Uh, yes. And you are?"

The boy shook but his name came out like a low mumbling of the earth. "Raivis Galante."

"Feliciano," Feli offered back. So far, so good.

"So what are you doing here Raivis?" The boy wasn't Feli's model example of what a soldier should be. He was small, skittish and above all scared. At the question the boy shook more visibly than before. He looked around to gauge who was around him, once, twice, then a third time, and finally turned to Feli.

When he spoke his voice was a whisper, hardly audible from their footsteps. "You aren't one of Ivan's spies, are you?"

"Spies?" Feliciano was perplexed.

"I guess you wouldn't answer me if I asked anyway," the boy turned around to go.

"Wait! I didn't mean to- I mean..." Feliciano paused. "I'm not a spy, or anything like that. I was just asking. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Raivis seemed to relax, at least to a degree. He even smiled a bit. "I guess it wouldn't matter if you were a spy or not. It's not like I'll be here long anyway."

"Are you going somewhere?" Feli asked.

At this the soldier gave an unsettling laugh. "I wish."

It was only later on that Feli learned Raivis' whole story. He had caught up with Toris and the conversation had wandered to the young soldier.

"Yes, I know him," Toris said, "Raivis. He's probably the youngest here. Poor fellow."

Feli stared at him with rapt attention.

"You see, Ivan sometimes recruits soldiers against their will. Raivis is one of them. Our army had just come from a battle and we were running low on soldiers, so Ivan offered every village we came across an ultimatum: join him or face the consequences."

"Consequences?" Feli repeated.

Toris nodded. "I don't always agree with his methods, but..." he shook his head. "Anyway, the Galante clan could either offer up their only son or see their house burned to the ground."

Feli looked at the young soldier, marching by himself. There was something tragic about his eyes and Feli knew what it was now. He wondered if he'd have that same look if he stayed in such a place long enough.

* * *

><p>The trail they were following winded uphill and before long they were traversing steep mountain roads. Feli guessed they were somewhere on the southern edge of Mysgania.<p>

He remembered the maps in his Grandfather's study, even though he never thought he'd have to use that knowledge for what he was doing now. Thinking back to those maps didn't bring back as much nostalgia as he thought it would. He remembered peering at a map of the Continent and thinking how small his home seemed compared to everything else. He remembered tracing the small curve that Altemoré made with his finger, then tracing along the coast and up, to the mountains that he was walking on now. They had seemed so small then; they weren't now.

Just then the column halted. From where he was standing, Feli couldn't make out the cause to the sudden stop, but all around him voices and speculation went up in a clamor.

"It's an army from Huld," someone reported before too long. This information by itself meant little to Feli, but the tone of the soldier's voice gave it away.

A soldier close to him whispered barbarians.

Of course, Feli thought, Huld and Ekaal are not on the best of terms, at least they weren't four years ago. The isolation of Valis had certainly kept him out of the loop on such things.

"Will the captain engage?" Someone called across the crowd.

"Too early to tell," someone else joined in. Soon voices were melting into each other and Feli could only stare dead ahead, where he thought Ivan and the Huld army were exchanging terms.

* * *

><p>It was decided the battle would take place the following morning on a flat piece of land above the trail. That night Natalia and Feli unpacked their supplies and set up camp. He was becoming accustomed to the different instruments of healing already, his fingers working fast for the preparation. Before he knew it, everything was laid out and ready.<p>

Feli found himself groping for some object to prepare, some gauze that hadn't been unpacked yet. Unpacking had occupied his mind. Now the oncoming battle was slowly and stealthily creeping into it, filling his veins with terror.

Would Ivan ask him to attack the Huldan army? Would he be able to refuse this time?

He didn't want to think about it, he paced around the tent until Natalia scolded him to go to bed. In his humble cot he stayed awake, dreading the approaching dawn. Occasionally he would fall asleep, only to squirm out of nightmares. Finally, the dark crept to light and the first sounds of battle started. He was on his feet before any of that, his skin cold, his bones tired.

* * *

><p>This time around the battling didn't faze him as much. He had become accustomed to the sounds of war, like thunder in the Spring. His hands still shook when an especially sharp cry reached his ears, but beyond that he was calmer than he had been in a long time. Since he had started working in this army, he surmised.<p>

He hadn't stopped to think about how cynical his mind was becoming. Hadn't he started this journey with hope that there was something out there for him? Now, as he looked at the myriad of blood, battle and dust ahead of him, he wasn't so sure this was it. There had to be something else, right? Fate would not blow him in this direction if it wasn't his destiny.

His mind started to feel bogged down and his limbs as heavy as lead. He tried to stop thinking, tried to concentrate on healing whatever injury the wounded came in with. He wished desperately that some task would distract him and so he tended one after another, running circles around Natalia. And still, his mind was in a battle of its own, waging war with what it wanted and what it needed. He had been so eager to find his place in the world, to find a place he belonged. And now that he was there he wanted to run away from it, to be nameless and homeless once again; in essence, all the things he had hated feared.

A distraction did eventually come, though it was not a pleasant one. He was told to go out into the field, once again, and prep the wounded for Natalia's care.

The battlefield, little more than a level area in the mountain pass, was small and therefore Feli had a hard time trying to find a safe place to tend to the injured. Chaos rippled throughout the place, rattling his skull, and he looked up every few seconds to see if the battle had turned and was coming his way.

The first few injuries he tended weren't much to talk about at all. Then, as the sun crept across the sky, the soldiers would come limping, or on the shoulders of others. The wounds became larger, deeper, sure to leave scars, but Feli knew there was something he could do. Some way he could heal them, and with Natalia's help, they were sure to live.

And then it happened.

It was the boy he had talked to while marching. The boy who came staggering to him on Toris' shoulder. now The boy who had been shot right through the middle.

The screaming was terrible. Feliciano was reminded of a dog in Altemoré. It had been malled when it had gotten into the bull's pen. The dog had not barked nor yelped but screamed-a terrible whining that communicated pain better than any human words could. Then it had stopped and the eery silence that followed was worse than any noise could be.

He hadn't been too familiar with that dog and his Grandfather had told him it had probably been a stray.

But Feliciano had never seen a human die. Even in all his time in the army, he hadn't seen one die before his eyes. The screaming was agony and he could understand the words.

"Oh god! Someone please! It hurts! It hurts!" The words were sharp and to Feli, cruel. He knew there was nothing he could do-even as he tried to reconstruct the threads with the healing spell, the wound would open again.

Finally the boy stopped screaming and that was when Feliciano started to worry, trying to retie the threads, only to have them snap when he had moved on to a new batch.

That was when the boy turned to him, eyes as hopeless as flotsam. He only looked at him. In that intense, cold glare, Feliciano knew there was nothing he could do. All the threads had come undone.

His mind screamed, his hands grabbed at nothing. Was this punishment for his foolishness? For his selfishness in joining a cause he knew nothing about only so that he didn't feel so alone anymore?

He was angry at this boy, looking at him and accusing him. He was angry at Ivan for agreeing to this battle, and Toris who he had agreed to in the first place. But most of all, he was angry at himself.

His powers had failed him. What good were they and at what cost had he paid to have them, however unwillingly?

Then someone grabbed him and Feliciano was pulled away from the dying boy, from his thoughts. Natalia took his place, applying the healing spell to little effect.

He wanted to yell at the person who had grabbed him. He wanted to say that there was more that he could do even though he knew there wasn't. He looked behind himself and saw that it was Toris.

"Toris? Why?"

"Ivan wants you." Came the quick and serious reply.

Feliciano gave one last look to the boy-soldier and Natalia. He hoped she could help him.

* * *

><p>For once, Ivan allowed himself to smile. Not that he didn't always smile, it was just that this one was different. It was a smile because he had achieved something. Because everything was working right instead of wrong. Because his friends were behaving as they should and his enemies would soon be no more.<p>

He saw Toris bringing the Weaver across the battlefield to where he stood and his smile grew a little broader.

* * *

><p>The captain approached him, his expression unusually calm, and Feliciano tensed.<p>

"Oh my," Ivan frowned, "Was that really our friend Raivis?"

Feli knew he wasn't mocking, knew that Ivan was genuine in his concern, but still the words cut him like a hot knife through ice.

When he did not answer, the captain started up again. "I suppose you already know what I want from you."

Still Feliciano could not answer, his heart configuring to something like hopelessness and rage.

"Must I say it?"

"No!" He hadn't meant to say it loudly, but it might have echoed if the battle hadn't been so loud itself.

"No?"

"I won't use my magic to harm anybody."

Ivan frowned again. A genuine frown, as if his friend had refused to talk to him. "But Feliciano, you don't want what happened to Raivis to be repeated, do you?"

Consternation welled in him and for once he really did feel like using his offensive magic, but not on the enemy army.

"I-I won't."

Ivan whistled. "You mean you'll let more friends die?"

"No, that's not what I said!" It infuriated Feliciano that his own voice rose as Ivan's remained so calm.

"Then why not help?" Ivan asked, "Isn't preventing wounds just another form of healing? With your powers I think you could prevent a lot of harm."

Feliciano went over Ivan's words in his head. If offensive magic was just another form of healing magic, was war just another form of peace?

"You know what I'll have to do if you don't cooperate."

His mind was racing, looking for a way out, looking for some kind of distraction.

He was almost grateful when the earth exploded beneath him, as a force knocked him off his feet and sent him flying to the ground.

* * *

><p>AN: Hello again. Originally, this chapter was going to be a little longer, but that meant that Chapter 7 would have been really short. So I compromised. It's actually kind of fun writing the cognitive dissonance that characters face. I remember being really fond of it in my early fics, even when I didn't know it was called 'cognitive dissonance' (kind of a mouth full if you ask me). Anyway, thank you for reading. I really appreciate all your feedback. What can I say? At the very least it helps me write better.


	8. Run Away

A/N: It's one of the shorter chapters this time around. Maybe that isn't a bad thing?

* * *

><p>Chapter 7 <em>Run Away<em>

* * *

><p>The world was black, the sky and the ground, darkness. The shadows dripped, ebbing and flowing like a monstrous ocean. Slowly, slowly, the dark started to recede and Feliciano became aware that he was staring at the back of his own eyelids.<p>

He opened his eyes. There was a ringing in his ears, but as he helped himself up, there was nothing too pressing to worry about. He was in one piece and that was more than enough to be thankful for.

He looked around. Ivan was leaning against a rock with the same eerily placid expression that he always had. He said something to Feliciano, but the ringing blared it out. Feli was sure Ivan had also shared the brunt of the explosion, but beyond a few scratches and tears in his coat, he did not seemed at all harmed.

Feliciano scrambled to his feet and the earth felt shaky beneath him. At that moment Natalia arrived and quickly attended to Ivan. Fear and concern lashed her face and Feliciano realized it was the first time he had seen her show so much emotion. And then, for some reason, jealously flashed through him. Ivan had something, someone who loved him as a brother, no matter how insidious he was.

Feli left the scene, limping and feeling sick to his stomach.

He had decided he would leave. In fact, he had decided as soon as Ivan had set the farm house on fire, that he needed to leave. He did not care what would happen to him if Ivan came looking for him, his only instinct was to be done with the captain's unjustifiable mission.

As he walked away from the battle he was afraid of someone pursuing him. But when that someone grabbed his shoulder it was not the hard grip he had been expecting. Instead it was gentle. It was kind.

"Feliciano?" He turned around and Toris stood behind him. His face was muddied and dirty and there was a bit of blood trickling over his eyebrow. "Where are you going?"

He could not lie to Toris. "I'm leaving."

Feli expected some kind of incredulous look. Instead, the other only nodded.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

For some reason the ringing in his ears had stopped.

"No–I–"

"I should have known he would do that. I mean, ask you to–I'm sorry."

"No, it's..." But he couldn't find the words.

Toris looked him in the eyes. "I told you once that I didn't always agree with Ivan's methods, Feliciano," the seriousness in his voice was unfaltering. "But I do agree with this cause. I want to see a world where everyone is equal and I know that Ivan wants the same." He took a deep sigh and looked wistfully toward the battlefield.

Again, Feliciano struggled for words. He wondered what he believed in. What cause did he have? And did he believe in it enough to use his powers like Ivan wanted him to?

"I should get back there," Toris said. "Goodbye Feliciano." He turned to leave.

For a second, Feliciano thought he might stay. He thought about catching Toris' wrist and saying that he had nothing to apologize for. That it had been his decision in the end. He thought about returning to the healing tent, about Natalia's cold efficiency. He thought about Ivan and plotting ways to avoid him.

And still he wondered what he truly believed in. It wasn't Ivan's ideal, or Toris' either.

So he ran as fast as his feet would carry him. He didn't look back. The sounds of the battle went on around him and, if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it was the sound of the sky falling down. So much chaos. So much careless disaster.

He was deathly afraid.

He ran to the far edge of the battlefield. He saw a crevice in a rock formation and crawled in, his hands muddied with dirt. And there, in that confined space, he waited out the storm.

* * *

><p>The sounds invaded his sleep, but he did find sleep, in that cool dank place. He wasn't physically exhausted, but hadn't wanted to think anymore. His thoughts raced <em>What if they find me?, what if the other army finds me? What if, what if?<em> and finally he had given up.

He woke to a penetrating silence. It seemed to want to close on him, to envelope him into the false lull of security. He crawled out before he let it.

Outside the dusk loomed a featureless blue. The fog might have rolled in, but he saw no signs of clouds. Or much of anything. The landscape was the unforgiving gray of slate with no sign of comfort. He should have expected that. How could it be anything else than what it was, a graveyard.

He would never find his way down the mountain in the dark and his only option was to stay in the shelter until light. But he didn't want to return to that, not yet. Feli wrapped his arms around himself and walked back the in the direction of the battle. He knew what he would find and yet there was some hope he might find something different.

By the time he came across the first body the wind had kicked up. He was not sure what gave him more of a chill. In the gloom he made out more, all from the opposing army. He didn't recognize any familiar faces and he supposed that was a small blessing. Ekaal had cleared out their dead; perhaps Huld had a different custom when it came to that.

The more corpses he came upon, the harder it was to look away from them. Perhaps it was the result of being a Healer: the body now fascinated him. He wanted to learn more and yet he did so with an artistic observation. All those wounds, all those fractures, had become studies in the art of Healing. He could remember painting his hand when he was young, remembered trying to get the shadow of the knuckle just right, surely that was no different.

Feliciano's legs were getting weaker. The cold seemed to go right through them, as if they were composed of nothing more than a thin, loose fabric.

His mind had long surrendered to its tireless trek, void of worry. It was numb. He was numb. He had to constantly remind himself why he was walking in such a desolate place, all alone.

Loneliness... it wasn't so bad. In some ways, it had become him. He couldn't remember a time in recent years when he didn't feel lonely. He wore the feeling like a piece of cloth one ties around their arm. He did not wear it proudly, but he wore it without retribution or regret. He had passed those things by a long time ago.

Then he spotted a man against a rock. He was so tired and the light was dimming so that he would have to turn back soon. But something caught his eye, the tiniest echo of a movement and instantly he was at the other's side.

It was a soldier from the other army. He recognized the uniform. The man himself was young, Feliciano thought, but fully grown. His features were contained in a solemn grimace and Feliciano realized that it must have been the look of an honorable soldier condemning himself to death. He had a wound in his side and Feli could see how the man clutched at it with the last of his strength. The hands shook as the wind blew.

But Feli wouldn't have any of it. As far as he knew, this was the only other living body on the mountain. He was lonely and cold. He needed someone, anyone, to share warmth with. To keep his mind from other thoughts.

And so Feliciano gathered the threads. A warm glow rose up in his body and left as quickly to close the man's wound. He healed the first layer, the inner body, and worked on the layer just below the flesh. Wave after wave of warmth rose and left him to go to healing, and after Feliciano was done, he felt as if he had been held upside down and all the heat that had remained in his body had been somehow poured out from his head.

To warm himself up again he lifted the man by the arms and dragged him to the rock formation he had hid in.

Under the rock overhanging Feli waited, anxious seconds as the man seemed to come to consciousness again.

The light from the cave mouth was just enough so that Feli knew when he opened his eyes.

"Wh–What happened?" The groggy voice asked, as guttural as a rock rolling around in a vase.

Feliciano smiled. "You were alive, so I healed you."

"The battle–" the man tried to rise but the pain was too much. He settled for resting on his elbows. "I–"

"The battle is over. Ivan's army has left."

The news didn't seem to faze the man as he launched into the next question. "Who are you?"

"My name is Feliciano," then, remembering how disguising his true identity had only brought him more misery, added, "I'm a Weaver."

"A Weaver?" The soldier asked.

Feli nodded. "And a Thender as well."

A noise sounded in the man's throat and he said nothing. Instead his eyes traversed the empty mountain top from the cave mouth, searching but never finding anything.

"...why?" He asked at length. His voice was still hoarse but he was quickly gaining strength.

"Why?" Feliciano repeated, caught off guard by the question.

"Why did you help me?"

"It's part of my vow as a Weaver," he replied, almost reflexively. The soldier scowled and Feliciano felt that he had said the wrong thing. Not just the wrong thing, a completely offensive thing.

Feli felt cold again, the first time since he had pulled the man into the shelter.

At last the soldier spoke again, "I take it you're from Ivan's army."

Feliciano almost nodded but stopped himself. "No. I left his army."

That seemed to pique the man's interest. "And why? Was he not a successful tactician? Did he not treat everyone in his army equally?" His words rang with bitter sarcasm.

"I did not believe in his cause," he answered. "Equality and military success cannot make up for ignorance and cruelty."

The soldier chuckled, but it was a dark chuckle with no humor in it. Feliciano decided to stay silent.

"So you've defected? Aiding an enemy soldier." The man looked at his side. Feliciano could not tell if he was still in pain but the solider seemed to be pleased with the mended wound.

"You are a traitor," he added.

Feliciano let the words linger in the air. He did not try to argue them, instead letting them soak into his entire being. He was a traitor. He had left Ivan's army and helped a soldier on the opposing side. Had Feli been a soldier he would have been ashamed.

But he wasn't a soldier. He was a Weaver and a Thender and Thenders especially had no honor to preserve. He could only do right by himself because there was no one else to hold him accountable.

"You are not wrong," Feli began,"I am a deserter and in helping you I am a traitor as well. I left because I was selfish and did not want to share my powers with people who used it to harm. I did not want to be a pawn in bringing about ideals that made others suffer. I helped you because I was selfish. I wanted your warmth and company."

The soldier seemed to consider this, or else he had the guise of considering it. Then he turned to Feliciano and those eyes bore into him.

"I want you to know that I don't trust traitors. I hate and despise them. I would rather die than become one." At these words Feli's breath hitched and he thought the man would cause some harm to him, or worse–leave him in the cave by himself. "But I can recognize where gratitude is due. Thank you, Feliciano."

Feliciano sighed relief, "You're welcome."

Then his look once again darkened. "Had you still been loyal to Ivan you would have seen the error of your ways. Perhaps you still will." Another dark, humorless chuckle.

"What do you mean?"

"My name is Ludwig, Captain of the Huld Army."

* * *

><p>AN: About time.


	9. Reflections

Chapter 8 _Reflections_

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><p>"My name is Ludwig, Captain of the Huld Army."<p>

Several images rushed through Feli's head when he heard those words, particularly the things he had heard about Huld. The people of Huld built cities and factories, nothing like he had seen so far on his trek around the Continent. Feli knew that there were few Weavers of Hulden blood, and he guessed that was the reason why Huld relied so much on machines-as a substitute for magic.

In this way, Captain Ludwig fit his image of Huld: strong, stark and serious. He was also very silent, or rather, he saved his words for when they needed to be said. In the next few hours that rolled by, the two hardly said two words. From the lip of the crevice Feli could see the sky losing its color. It would be dark soon.

Although he had never studied Huld customs in any depth, he wondered if the other was upset with him. In all correctness, it had been Feli who had_ saved _him, but perhaps, some men, for whatever reason, did not like to be saved even when they were rapping on death's door.

"Are you upset Captain Ludwig?"

The Captain turned to him, perhaps surprised that he had spoken, but then his face took on a glower. "Why should I be?"

"It's only that, where I come from, a scowl is a sign of agitation."

"And where do _you_ come from? What is the country you are loyal to? Ekaal is it?"

Feli shook his head. He could not honestly answer. He understood Ludwig's question as a place one would call home, and Feli knew that he had no place like that.

"Nowhere, sir." Having learned he was a captain, Feli adopted the proper form of respect.

The Captain gave him an incredulous look. "There must be somewhere."

"Nowhere," he repeated. "I have no home nation."

Ludwig expressed his indignation with a snort. "If you want to keep it a secret, by all means keep it. I have no interest in _you_ and_ your ways_. However, don't take me for a fool. I don't believe you come from _nowhere_. I believe you are only hiding your motives because it suits you at this time. You must be loyal to some nation."

"I would much rather be loyal to myself than any nation, sir."

The Captain's glower grew deeper, as if it were digging the grave where the conversation was dying. "Then so be it. It does not concern me." And the man rolled over and faced the rock.

Feliciano lowered his head. It was the worst possible time to do so, but Feli knew he must entreat the Captain to let him join his army. Feli knew he would need food, and all the necessary resources for living that an army provided. He knew he had no other option. He did not know how far he was from civilization or what lurked below the mountain. Although he was a Weaver, he was completely vulnerable. He had learned that. But most of all, he believed that fate had blown him in Ludwig's direction for a reason.

Fate was a treacherous fellow.

"Captain," he started, using Ludwig's title, "I told you I was a Weaver and a Thender, but you did not seem to respond. Was there a reason?"

The man talked without rolling over. "What does it matter to me what you are?"

"So you do not care then?"

The other did not respond and Feli took it as an affirmative response.

"Weavers in Huld are rare, aren't they?"

"Yes, but they do exist." Feli wondered if he added the line just to be contradictory.

"But Weavers do make the most efficient Healers, and I take it, judging from the way you were left on the mountain, that you do not have one in your army."

This time Ludwig turned around. "Although there are no Weavers, the reason is simpler than that," then the dry, humorless chuckle. As he did not elaborate, Feli was left to interpret the gesture.

"Then, Captain Ludwig, I humbly ask to join your army as a Healer."

Ludwig looked at him. There was little surprise in that face, but it was piercing all the same.

"Healer?"

Feli nodded. "I demonstrated my powers when I healed your wound."

"But for _my_ army? How will I know that you won't run away at the first chance you get?"

Feliciano tightened his fists in order to gain confidence. "If you are a good captain and only ask me to heal, and not to attack those who are defenseless, then I will be loyal to you, Captain."

The Captain continued to stare. His gaze was unwavering, but eventually his facial expression softened-by a degree-and he hung his head.

"Fine. You are now a Healer in the Huld army," the man sighed, "You saved my life after all. This is only fair."

"Thank you, Captain!" Feliciano leapt forward and hugged him. It was so natural to him, being easily excitable, that only three seconds after did he realize that he was hugging a complete (and semi-hostile) stranger.

Ludwig pushed him off. "As your captain, I forbid you to do that." There was a peculiar expression on the other's face, not one of embarrassment, but rather of distress. Feliciano knew there was a difference between the two.

Despite the darkness that now enveloped the both of them, Feliciano grew warmer.

* * *

><p>He was fighting with his brother. Feli had fought with his brother many times, so it didn't seem as if this time was any different. He could feel Grandpa's presence in the distance, but for whatever reason, the old man did not come to break up the fight. So Feliciano was stuck there, arguing with his brother about something he didn't know about, but was willing to argue for it to the bitter end.<p>

"No, you're wrong!" Lovino was saying, his face going red.

"Please, please, I know brother! You have to listen to me!"

Lovino calmed visibly, but his tone grew darker and more vicious. "You were always stupid, Feliciano. Now you're going to listen to me and do as I tell you." His brother reached for his hand, but it wasn't the warm, sun-kissed skin that Feliciano was used to. This hand was cold as it dragged him somewhere. He didn't know where he was going. Everything was dark except for his brother, who was illuminated by a fierce, inner light.

Feli couldn't tell how long it was his brother dragged him, but as he followed he realized that his brother was not the same as he remembered him. Four years (or was it four and a half?) was the last time he had seen his brother, the eighteen year old itching to plunge head first into the world of adults. They hadn't fought on that day. What had happened had been worse; Lovino had ignored him. He knew what had been coming, had known for a long time, but the realization had been worse. Lovino avoided him whenever they crossed each other in the halls, as Feliciano gathered the last of his things to pack. He hadn't said a word to him and Feliciano had ended up being the one crying for his brother's farewell. It had never come.

The Lovino that dragged him now was an adult, at least as old as Feli was. His mouth had become a hard line and something had stolen childish impatience from his eyes. He was every bit of the Lovino Feliciano had been able to say goodbye to.

Finally something came into view in the distance. A tiny patch of land surrounded by trees and in the middle-Feliciano's breath hitched. He remembered it, the farm house that Ivan had taken him to. His brother turned to him, his eyes glowing violet.

"Burn it, Feli."

"I can't!" The grip on his wrist tightened.

"Do it!"

"No!" His brother was so close to snapping his wrist.

"No?"

"I told you I can't do that."

His brother faced him, no emotion playing on his face. Then he let go of his wrist. "You were always useless, Feli" and his palmed pushed him. "Useless, useless." He fell, but he never hit the ground.

* * *

><p>Feliciano woke to a gray dawn, the mouth of the cave was an immutable wash of water-downed ink. Sleeping on the ground had left his back sore and his hands and feet felt like ice. He didn't need to remind himself of why he was sleeping in a cave instead of a cot in an infirmary tent.<p>

He rose, stretching out his limbs and having his eyes adjust to the din. He almost didn't see the Captain sitting by the mouth of the cave, eyes focused on the opening.

"Lu-," he gasped, "C-captain!"

Ludwig regarded him, nodding. Then, in one swift motion, the Captain rose. There was a moment of hesitation, as if the Captain would grab the wall for support, but it never happened. Ludwig rose on his own feet then shot one glance back at him.

"Well," he said, "aren't you coming?"

He was on his feet at once although his bones and muscles protested. A simple question stopped in his throat and he found himself wondering if he was afraid of the Captain. No, it wasn't fear. He had known fear yesterday, had come face to face with it and ran from it. This was something else, something he didn't know.

* * *

><p>"Since you are a Healer I feel it is best to have you take over the infirmary. We haven't had a decent Healer since we began. You will be given a stipend every month as resources permit," the Captain explained. They followed the path down the mountain. From where they walked Feli could see smoke rising in the distance and Ludwig had firmly told him that it was the Hulden camp.<p>

"That won't be needed, sir."

Ludwig's eyes fixed on him, a silent command to explain himself.

"I don't need money."

"Need I remind you that this is not the Ekaalen Army? I expect my soldiers to know how to fend for themselves if needed."

Feliciano was about to rebuke and tell the Captain that he wasn't a soldier, merely a Weaver-

"On the other hand, since most here waste their money on alcohol and other things, I don't see why my brother should throw his money at someone who does not want it."

Feli wondered what the significance of Ludwig's brother was. If he was funding an army he must have been incredibly rich. Or was he some sort of general? Despite having been in one already, Feli was not entirely sure how armies worked.

"And another thing," the Captain went on, "I expect you to use your 'magic' responsibly. I can't have those fools thinking that magic is for anything other than a last resort."

Ludwig did not ask for any questions or comments, but Feliciano supplied his own anyway. "Just one thing, Captain. I want to heal. I do not want to fight, or use my magic to harm others."

He felt he needed to repeat himself on that point but the Captain gave him a cold glare.

"Like I said," the Captain's words were cold and calculated. "I expect my soldiers to fend for themselves."

* * *

><p>They had found a clearing in the trees and whatever wasn't cleared had been chopped down to make room for them. At first Feliciano was sure there was some kind of mistake. The men Ludwig had led him to did not look like men of a military order. They sat around fires smoking and playing cards, their raucous voices echoing through the trees.<p>

But, when the men looked to him, or rather to Ludwig, a silence rolled over like a crushing wave. They stood up, the cards or ashes rolling off of them as they rose, and looked sternly at their captain.

And Ludwig, for his part, said nothing, but made his way through the ranks with a face made of stone, as if part of a funeral procession. Feliciano tagged close behind.

When the Captain did stop, in front of a big tent, he turned around and issued a curt order. "We head North tomorrow. Pack up." His voice cut through the silence like cold, decisive steel and Feliciano shivered. He wondered if he had found a captain even colder than Ivan, but pushed that thought down.

The men acknowledged him and started to mull around the camp in the act of looking busy. When the attention was off him, Ludwig turned to Feliciano.

"The Healing tent is over there," he pointed. Then he looked to the crowd and voice became hushed. "You should know most of these men are outlaws and criminals." That recurring grin crept on his face again. "My brother finances them. That's the only reason keeping them from killing me."

Before Feli could think of a way to respond Ludwig had disappeared into his tent, and he was once again left all alone.

* * *

><p>AN: Hello again. This chapter took a bit longer than the others, didn't it? While some parts of the story are written out already, these specific parts haven't been as fleshed out as the rest. Therefore, I may take some time to get them uploaded. Thanks for hanging in there anyway and as always, thanks for reading.


	10. A Gift for Flight

Chapter 9_ A Gift for Flight_

* * *

><p>His new Captain was strict. Feli found himself waking before sunrise, and even <em>that<em> was too late for the military man. Feli had to carry his own things, and he rejoiced that he didn't have that much to begin with.

The days were long and the work tiring. As the first official Healer, he found himself in charge of a staff that didn't know what they were doing and constantly in need of supplies he didn't have. On top of that, none of them were Weavers and most of them were drunks, intent on using the medicinal supplies for recreational uses.

As for the army on a whole, they mostly ignored him. Feliciano wasn't one of them and they weren't at all like him. He would sit alone on the ground and drink soup-which was just barely different from the mud at his feet-while the rest of them played cards or engaged in some other form of free time. Ludwig had explained that their campaign for the time being had mostly ended and that they were preparing for the journey home. To Huld.

He would have liked to feel excited about the idea. Huld so far had been a place in his imagination, a country that had build cities, nothing like the places he had been before. But now his imagination was colored by the Captain and his upright, stern being. He envisioned Huld as an orderly place of walls, high and unbearably repressive.

There was no Toris or Raivis or Natalia. There were no women and no children. The men seemed to have a hardened, untrusting look and Feli soon gave up the hope of befriending any of them. By the second day he had heard enough to tell the swindlers from the cheats and the gamblers from the thieves: petty crimes that had rendered them as cheap labor to whoever was willing to pay.

And that person willing to pay was Ludwig's brother. The Captain had said no more of his brother, and Feliciano had hardly seen him since the man walked into his tent with a dower expression on his face. Was it possible to feel alone in the impersonal and confined life of an army Healer? He didn't want to think about it, but the thought kept popping up, just as the medical supplies steadily went missing.

* * *

><p>"It's this damn foot of mine," Feli's patient gasped. "Hurts like the-"<p>

The man had staggered into the medical tent. Perhaps stagger was just a euphemism: the man had wrenched back the curtain of the medical tent, used the table for support (on which he knocked down several jars and syringes), and flopped onto the cot as a elegantly as a fish flops on a riverbank. Also, he was clearly inebriated.

"C-can you take off your shoes?" Feli asked. "I-I mean, take off your shoes."

The man, more or less, complied. When the footwear had been discarded, the foot emerged. Or rather, it had once been a foot, but abuse and hard wear had rendered it a slug with five tumors hanging off of it, the color of a plum.

Feli thought his lunch would be the next thing to be discarded.

He was sure of one thing, however. His Weaving skills would do little to help this particular case. He went to the table and grabbed a bucket and something sharp. Hopefully the alcohol the man had already consumed would be enough to counteract the pain.

He took a deep breath and got to work.

* * *

><p>It wasn't the first time he had worked with an alcoholic.<p>

Priest Kirkland had been more or less of one. During the last year of Feli's training, the priest had started showing up to lessons with a flask in hand. His Weaving, however, was still as strong as ever.

"You're still not getting it," Priest Kirkland said irritably, his fingers toying with a spell that could annihilate Feli with a simple flip of the wrist. "If you can't protect yourself, what good are you to anyone?"

Already, Feliciano's clothing was singed where his teacher's magic had broken through the barriers.

"I don't want to fight anyone," Feliciano called from across the room.

His teacher's eyes narrowed. "And what makes you think you can avoid that?" Before he knew it, another stream of sparks was sent his way, their light whizzing through the air and shattering the barriers. Feliciano felt the sharp pain as the light hit him, cutting like glass.

"You can't even avoid my attacks."

"It's not the same."

"Oh? Is it?" Another burst was shot his way. This time Feliciano tried to dodge, but the sparks hit him in the chest. Red slowly bloomed around the area.

"Please! I don't want to fight anymore!" What was left of his barrier started to shatter and more sparks zoomed for their target.

"Pleading didn't work. Now what?"

"I- I-"

Another burst. More spots of red.

"Neither will stuttering."

He could feel the threads snapping, their will to stay in place diminishing as each hit landed. Soon the barrier would break, soon _he_ would...

Another flash of light and more pain. He looked on as his protective spell shivered and fell into nothing. Now it was just him and his teacher.

Arthur prepared for another strike. This time it would cause more than just cuts.

Time slowed to a heartbeat as Feliciano ran to the other side of the room. He could hear the sparks shoot pass him, their electricity trembling with excitement.

The wall behind him exploded, crumpling into broken bits of plaster.

He grabbed on to the adjacent wall for support as the room shook in his vision for a bit. When the worst had ended, he could hear Priest Kirkland's sardonic chuckling.

"Well," he said, "You could always run."

* * *

><p>The end of his shift came with a mixture of relief and anxiety. He had been given a bundle of canvas, no, perhaps given was not the correct term. A bundle of canvas had been thrown at his head along with the shout, "Your tent!" From that point, he could only stare occasionally at the fabric while he made his rounds.<p>

He had never assembled a tent before and so, as he laid out the roll on an even patch of earth, he very much doubted he would be sleeping under anything other than the stars tonight.

But, after a bit of experimentation in the dusk, he managed to gather a few branches together so that the tent stood up more or less on its own. The space inside was tiny, and he bet that if he knew how to work such things, it would have been three times as big, but he was exhausted by the time he had climbed onto the pallet.

The confined quarters were uncomfortably sweltering, so he disrobed, a frantic struggle in the tiny space. His eyes were already closed before his last article of clothing had been pulled off.

He could have been dozing off for a few minutes, or a few hours, but whispers snapped him awake.

"He's frail like a woman should be, but still there's-"

"He's waking up."

He saw the three heads poking in at the sagging opening of his tent.

It had been the first time he had slept naked in years and instantly Feli regretted it. He woke to the voices, a lantern light shining over his bare body.

He'd felt shame before. Many times, but it was never for being naked. Now he felt cold suddenly. He looked at the intruders but their faces were obscured by the light.

Instantly, he tried to cover himself with blankets.

"Did we scare you?"

Feli didn't speak. Fear had caught his tongue. He figured once he covered himself the men would have seen all they needed to. And yet, they made no effort to leave.

"Still," one of them said, "he has the face of a women."

"No. It's more like a boy's."

"Just what is a Thender anyway?"

"They say they're born with too much of something. It makes their bodies unable to decide what route to take."

At last Feliciano spoke, "What do you want?" He noticed his voice was angry, almost shrieking.

"We heard we had something special."

"Yes, and we couldn't control our curiosity."

"So, are you going to do your little magic tricks now?"

Feli shook his head. He was still in a state of shock. "No. I will do no such thing."

There was a silence. Feli picked up the pungent scent of alcohol on the men's breath. In truth he felt defenseless. He could not face these men physically and he refused to use magic.

"Well then," one of them said. "Let's get a better look."

Feliciano didn't even need to think. In one fluid movement, he was on his feet and bounding through the canvas tent he had shoddily constructed. In another his bare feet were slipping on the mud and his face fell flat to the ground. And he was screaming.

He shivered as a light drizzle fell on his unclothed back, the night air relentless on his spine. He heard footsteps squashing the mud, but he refused to look up. He blamed himself for being stupid and ignorant to the world, to the kind of people that inhabited it. Surely he had been living in some kind of fantasy land, and the hard breeze that swept through him felt like the cold slap of reality finally waking him up from his twenty-year slumber.

"Identify yourself," the harsh words rang, but an euphonious feeling of joy ran through him. Because that voice, that voice was the only voice-

"It's me, Captain." He looked into the Captain's face, but no surge of surprise betrayed the man.

"Explain."

"Well, you see Captain, I was running from some men who came into my tent while I was asleep-"

"They unclothed you?"

"Uh, no. They- I unclothed myself, well not while they were there-"

"Get to the point."

"Yes, sir. It was a warm night and I decided to sleep- naked. While I was asleep three men came into my tent and wanted- made me- I think they wanted me to show them my powers."

"And did you?"

"No. I refused. But then they- I ran before they could do anything else."

"Is this all you have to report?"

"Yes, sir."

Ludwig sighed, the smallest bit of resignation now playing on his features, teetering between making itself known or not.

The Captain looked at him and sighed, "Pack up your things and come to my tent."

"Captain?"

"That's an order." Then he was gone. Feli was speechless. Instantly he started gathering his bedroll and folding his tent; it looked like the Captain had scared whoever they were away.

But Feli wondered what the Captain wanted with him. He did not have long to think about it. In less than five minutes he stood at the entrance to the Captain's tent.

Ludwig turned, and his face colored. Feliciano was reminded of the soldier's swollen foot.

"Put some clothes on!"

Later, sufficiently clothed, Feli stood once again at the entrance to the Captain's tent.

"Come here," Ludwig said. "I want you to know, first of all, that this is a hired army. My brother did not hire these men because of their good character. It was my mistake for assuming you were-," he sighed, unable to find the words that suited his unique dilemma. "Anyway, you will sleep in my tent from now on."

Ludwig's tent? Half of him rejoiced, the other half was alarmed.

* * *

><p>AN: Haha, I just loved awkward Ludwig. And what? An upload in the middle of the week? Anyway, thanks for reading. And special thanks to the reviewers. I know you guys don't have to write anything, but taking the time just to add a short note really means a lot to me. Until next time.


	11. Tent Mates

Chapter 10_ Tent Mates_

* * *

><p>In time Feliciano got used to the Captain's rigid orderliness. It was comforting to have someone to share space with. Feli would return at nights from the infirmary to find Ludwig poring over maps, writing in notebooks or scratching his head restlessly while muttering something about supplies. Feli would lay down his bedroll and fall asleep to the pleasant sounds of rustling paper. If he woke in the middle of the night, or rather in the space between midnight and dawn, he'd listen to the Captain's breathing. How nice to be reminded that someone like Ludwig was only a few steps away. It brought back memories of crawling into his grandfather's bed every time he had a nightmare. He needed those snores to reassure him that someone was there for him.<p>

It was then that Feli decided that he wanted to do everything in his power (short of using his powers to hurt others) to please the Captain. He wanted to be a good Healer, he wanted the Captain's approval. He wanted to ensure that there would always be a place for him in Ludwig's tent, a place just big enough to lay down his bedroll.

He had ached to find such a place for so long: where he would be greeted, or rather grunted at, when he entered at the end of the day. A small place on the floor and the Captain's occasional monosyllabic replies wasn't much but Feli had had far less.

Now he was determined to hold on to it for as long as he could.

* * *

><p>One night Feliciano sat in his corner on the bedroll. He felt tired, the whole day had been one injured soldier after another. Feliciano was just starting to realize what a rowdy bunch they were. He wouldn't have had to heal half as many scrapes and broken ankles if the men had behaved themselves instead of getting into petty brawls. As one soldier had explained, it was pay day and the army's main concern was trying to find ways to spend their new wages. Drunkenness had ensued. He could still smell the alcohol, even now.<p>

Feli was only too grateful to return to the Captain's tent at the end of his shift. Ludwig, of course, was busy as usual, absorbed in the documents on his desk. Feli sat on his bedroll, watching the shadows from the candlelight ebb and flow on the Captain's face. Ludwig did not say anything to him beyond a few casual greetings. He did not even rise when one soldier delivered their dinners.

Feliciano ate in silence and watched as Ludwig's meal grew cold.

"Captain?" He said softly. When the Captain did not respond he said a little louder, "Captain."

Ludwig turned towards him, his face half a mask of shadows, half of annoyance.

"Is the food not to your liking?" Overall it had not been a bad meal. Feliciano had once been an epicurean, now, as long as it was edible (or not of Priest Kirkland's making) he would eat it.

"No, I'm not hungry," the Captain said brusquely and returned to his work.

"But Captain, you must eat," Feli ventured.

"I'm busy," the reply came. "I don't need to eat."

"But Captain-"

"Exactly," this time Ludwig turned to him. "I am your captain. You do not tell me what to do."

"And I am your Healer. How do you expect me to heal you if you do not even care about your _own_ health?"

The Captain sighed, and though Feliciano did not want to use the word 'defeated' to describe the man, it was obvious he was not winning the situation.

He lifted his fork and stabbed a piece of meat, then shoved into his mouth and stared at the other.

Feliciano felt a tingling sensation of happiness and victory.

* * *

><p>The next morning, however, the Captain was back to his usual reprimanding self.<p>

"I want those trunks packed to the utmost capacity! There's still room for another bedroll in there!"

Feliciano worked on the sidelines, deconstructing the healer's tent.

He hadn't thought to ask what Ludwig's objectives were. That had got him in trouble with Ivan, now it was happening again. Except that now he didn't really want to ask. Like asking would somehow ruin whatever relationship he was starting to have with the captain.

Feliciano kept his lips sealed on the subject. He knew, eventually, they would be ripped open and exposed to the truth, but for now he regarded ignorance as his own sort of little heaven.

That heaven lasted until noon.

"This man has been caught stealing army property," Ludwig announced in front of the camp, his voice as cold as steel. Feliciano, curious about the gathered crowd, had walked into the mass, only to come out the other side to witness the Captain holding somebody at gunpoint.

Feliciano felt his skin crawl. He knew what the gun in Ludwig's hand meant now. The soldier would be given no trial. He hadn't need of one. He was already condemned.

Feli felt his feet bounding the Captain's side. "You can't!" He said. He held onto the Captain's arm.

Ludwig looked at him incredulously. Feli knew you did not say no to the Captain, you did not rebuke his words. But still, his heart beat ferociously and he could not let the Captain's will come to pass.

Finally Ludwig regained his composure. "Get out of the way, this doesn't concern you."

"No, Captain it does!"

The same look crossed Ludwig's eyes and before he could utter a "how?" Feli was already speaking in protest.

"Regardless of what this man has done he does not deserve that," Feli looked at the gun in Ludwig's hand. "If it is true that he had been stealing army property, perhaps he had a reason. And perhaps you are mistaken about his intentions."

The accused hunched, his expression unreadable.

Ludwig reduced his words to a whisper. "And what if I told you this man has been stealing weapons _and_ selling them to the enemy? What then? He has put the safety of this whole army at risk. And for what, a few measly coins that he will waste on consumption anyway. No," the Captain's eyes narrowed, "_you_ are the one who is mistaken." Ludwig shrugged him off and pointed the gun at the soldier.

"No!" Feli yelled, rushing to intercept. He acted as a human shield. He did not think Ludwig would shoot him, though that was the main reason why he had run between the two. He did not want to see any more deaths that he had the chance of averting.

Ludwig sighed. "So you believe in this man's innocence then?"

"No," Feliciano held his ground. "I didn't say that. I only believe that he does not deserve such a fate."

Ludwig grimaced.

"What would you do then?"

"Give him a trial-"

"He will be given no such thing."

"Then let him have a chance to explain himself."

"He was caught red-handed."

Feliciano looked towards the ground, trying to formalize an answer, but more, trying to avoid the Captain's cold glare. "Then discharge him."

Ludwig stayed silent for a long time, and in that time Feli thought that the Captain would use his force to push him away and kill the prisoner anyway. But Feli's fears were never realized. The Captain returned the gun to his breast pocket and ordered two soldiers to tie the man to a tree.

"He will be left without food or water," the Captain went on. "If he escapes and rejoins us he will be shot on sight." Then, as if to cement his point, he shot a cold glare in Feliciano's direction.

The glare chilled him. The Captain had not given the man life, he had simply prolonged it until dehydration and starvation reeked their havoc.

* * *

><p>That night Feli feared returning to his tent. He knew the tension that surrounded the Captain and, as he approached his dwelling, he could almost see a discordant aura that surrounded it. Feli entered quietly and did not lift his head from the ground. If he did not see the Captain, then it would be as if he wasn't there.<p>

Sure enough he entered and not a word or sound was made at him, and he hastily made his way to the bedroll before his eyes could detect any movement. There he sunk down into the fabrics and closed his eyes although he wasn't the least bit tired.

He could hear the tell-tale signs of Ludwig's presence. The papers rustled on the desk and every so often the other would clear his throat but nothing was ever said to him.

And Feli wondered what he feared more: speaking of the incident or not speaking of the incident, and therefore never speaking to the Captain ever again.

* * *

><p>Things got better. Or at least, to Feli, they seemed to have the guise like they did. Feli woke the next morning feeling more refreshed than usual, probably because he had fallen asleep so early.<p>

It was a good thing too, as that was the day they finally started moving.

* * *

><p>Ludwig marched. It had been an eventless couple of days, and though he did not dislike traveling, he sometimes grew tired of the boredom. He marched from the first rays of light and only constructed his tent in the dusk. Right now it was midmorning and, lacking conversation (as Feliciano had chosen to let him cool off after their last episode and now marched with the healers) he listened in on his soldiers' conversation. It came as no surprise that the first thing he heard was slander.<p>

"...just the Captain's whore."

He knew who they were referring to and Ludwig had prepared for it. He knew bringing the Weaver into his tent would bring about such rumors. He had risked it as he did not have a very high opinion of his army in the first place (but that last incident hadn't helped either). They were good fighters, yes, but they were not good men. And he did not give a damn about what bad men said of him, only respectable men were the ones he could be held accountable to.

And to Ludwig, there was only one respectable man in his whole army, and that person was not a man, nor very respectable either. But still, his eyes filled with rage to hear the scoundrels talk about him that way.

Feliciano was not a whore. He was not an object. The Captain had learned that when they first met and the Healer had refused to use his powers for offensive purposes. Feliciano was leagues away from such an army when it came to integrity. He was the farthest thing from a whore short of an abbot.

And yet Ludwig could not reproach the men for their malignant words. He was a Captain and above them. Because such words were common faire for an army.

Because, he felt if he repudiated them, it would only serve to cement what Feliciano meant to him. And that was something the Captain was afraid to admit. More than having a whore, he was afraid to say he had a friend.

* * *

><p>There was a change in the Captain's behavior that night. Feliciano could detect, just under the surface, like watercolors under an oil painting. It wasn't that Ludwig was nicer to him, it was just that, he seemed more receptive. And since he seemed more receptive, Feliciano couldn't help but talk. And what surprised even himself was that he talked about his past.<p>

"You know, I think my grandfather always knew I was a Thender." When Ludwig did not respond he elaborated. "He named me Feliciano. No one questioned him naming a girl a man's name, but then, no one ever questioned grandpa. Feliciano... It has a masculine ending in our tongue, but if you take that off, it's a feminine ending: Felicia. And if you to take that ending off too, it's just Feli."

"Hmm." The Captain made a noncommittal sound.

Feliciano went on, not entirely sure if he was speaking to Ludwig or to himself. "Feli doesn't sound like a boy's or girl's name does it? It could be both. It could be neither."

There was silence for a long time until the Captain muttered something.

"What was that?"

"Ludwig. My brother named me that," he said with a smile and far off look. "It was my brother who found me and gave me that name. We are not related by blood, but he raised me as if we were. Before that... it's all a void," the Captain covered his face. "I can remember nothing of my childhood. Nothing of my parents, or where I came from."

Childhood was such a special and fleeting thing for Feli; It reminded of his innocence, that he had been loved, that he once had a home. But someone who remembered none of that? It was something he could not even comprehend.

"How can that be?" Feli asked.

"How can that be?" Ludwig repeated, almost sardonically. "Look before you. I am living proof as to how it _is_."

Feliciano was silent. Was the Captain angry with him? Or was this something that went beyond anger?

"Do you think I am a cruel man, Feliciano?"

The question caught him off guard. "No, Captain."

"And yet I am a military captain, does that not have the implications of cruelty?"

"Not if you let it, Captain."

"Then what do you think of me? I have no childhood I can remember. I only know war. For as long as I have known I've been a part of war."

Captain Ludwig was a good man, Feliciano knew, but there was a black void where his heart ought to be. "I think you are a good captain and a good man, Ludwig. But instead, you do not realize that you are good."

Ludwig uncovered his face and looked at him, "What do you mean?"

"It is as if you are unfeeling, Captain. You wait until I sleep until you let yourself sleep. You do not eat until I do. You carry your duties with a rough and steady hand," Feli shuddered, remembering the soldier's botched execution. "I know that you are not, and yet you seem to believe that you are a machine."

Ludwig held a humorless grin through Feliciano's words. "So what? I need to be a strong Captain. They will kill me if they see the slightest weakness. That's how these men are."

Feliciano sighed. He felt bad for Ludwig. But at the same time he was angry at him. But it was not an anger that he could easily point out: it was born out of hopelessness for the Captain. Feli had just bared his heart and the Captain had replied with ignorance.

"I only wish that you would realize Captain," Feli whispered. "That you are not the same as these men." And with that he turned around and sunk into his blanket. He did not want to talk anymore. He could hear the rustling of manuscripts as Ludwig returned to work and a sadness welled up in him so immense that Feli had to bury his head lest the Captain hear his tender sigh.

* * *

><p>The Weaver turned over. From this vantage point, Ludwig was able to observe him indiscriminately, free of the bias of facial expressions. The captain noticed that the back was rather slight, not quite that of a man's, and the cheek was that of a woman's, flushed with carmine embarrassment.<p>

Then the other buried his head and Ludwig could not make out the features anymore.

The Captain wondered what might be going through such a head: masculine thoughts or womanly ones? Or perhaps just the thoughts of a person who had found himself in the company of a man as loathsome as the Captain himself.

Ludwig sighed. Self-deffacement would get him nowhere.

He needed to look over his papers. There was an army in the south he would need to defeat.

He opened a map that he had not opened for a long time. His eyes studied the lines. Enemy territory.

But this wasn't _just_ enemy territory. Ludwig's eyes filled with rage. This was the reason why he was with this band of scoundrels and cut throats in the first place. This was why his brother was confined to a chair for the rest of his life. This was the reason why he had cast such a pessimistic view on the world and its fickle inhabitants.

This was the object of Ludwig's hatred, revulsion and revenge. He looked at the words on the map, read them over and over again, incriminating them in his memory like a prisoner in a cell.

This was the city-state of Altemoré.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for waiting so long. I admit, I got very distracted in the last month or so. Anyway, next chapter will be coming out soon and will have backstory (yay!) that alludes to some of the things mentioned in this chapter. Also, and this is just an estimate here, but this is about the halfway point for this story.


	12. Intermission: Antonio's March

A/N: This is an Intermission chapter. We'll continue the main story next chapter.

Chapter 11 _Antonio's March_

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><p>Antonio was born in a small fishing village on the coast of Estria, a country renown for its sunkissed pastures and voluptuous orchards. He was not born into wealth, however, his father made a small fortune when he discovered sunken treasure on one of his fishing trips.<p>

Just like that Antonio was rich. His family bought land on the Estrian coast and doubled their profits.

"Just like that," was something Antonio liked to say about that time in his life. He was still very innocent to the ways of the world. He had never been betrayed or slighted. He had never betrayed or slighted anyone.

"And just like that," was something Antonio liked to say about the other part of his life. How his father had found his mother sleeping with a foreign diplomat. How he had killed the man in front of his eyes and how his mother had run away. How his father had gotten into gambling. How he had lost nearly half his wealth in less than a year. How he had lost the other half in less than a month.

They were ruined and his father, who had always been a proud man- since the time he had caught the biggest fish in the village- took a gun to his head and left his son with a debt so enormous not even a hundred sunken treasures could have paid it off.

It was at that time that Antonio was not so innocent anymore. He had dabbled in what little money his father had left. He had slept with the beautiful daughters of Estria's elite and he had had his share of the finest of Estrian wine. So Antonio, who had learned pride from his father and self-preservation from his mother, took off. He headed for Huld, where he had made friends with a young man when he had been rich.

And that young man had welcomed him with open arms, unaware of his friend's ruin. And so Antonio had taken advantage of the hospitality, endeavoring somehow to make up for it, because although he was less innocent in some ways, he was still very innocent in others. It was that young man who helped Antonio get back on his feet and who enrolled him in military school. In Huld, the Military Academy was the most prestigious institution in the country and to go there one either had to be very talented or very rich. Antonio was talented in militaristic affairs and his friend had supplied him with an ample allowance.

And so Antonio became a military officer and then a captain. He was very happy with the way his life had turned out, from utter ruin to total prowess. But he still had a debt to pay and that debt shamed him, because although he made an above decent sum of money he still could not repay his friend.

And so he had to run away again. This was at a time when Huld was at war with Ketre. Ketre had once been an empire and Huld decided that the former did not know its limits. However, Huld's power started to wain. Although not an empire anymore, Ketre still had enormous resources at its disposal.

Unfortunately for Antonio running away had made him a defector of Huld and had thus suspended his bank account. He was destitute again. He was just crossing the border into Sussa when he caught sight of an army, marching towards the mountains. He knew they were not Sussan- Sussa was, and had always been, neutral- so he wondered who they could be and if they had any places to spare for a former military man.

It turned out they did and Antonio found himself once again employed. Different army, different country, same routine. They marched over the mountains and Antonio found they were marching the same way Antonio had come. He asked one soldier about this.

"Huld has called on us for support, and as we are their allies, we are going to help them," the man said, then added, "but if you ask me, it is Huld that should lose this battle. They have never been an empire like Ketre and our own country, and if they get a taste of what its like to defeat one, even a former one, they might start getting ideas." Antonio was not listening to this second part, he was thinking that he could finally make it up to his dear friend by saving his country just in the nick of time. And by not needing his friend's wealth and influence in order to do it, either.

But just before they reached Huld the army took a sharp turn and started heading east. Antonio asked about this change of affairs as well.

"My country had the same sentiment as I did. We can't have Huld getting ideas into its head. We have joined Ketre."

"Then we have turned?" Antonio asked, incredulous.

"We don't think of it as turning where we come from," the man said. "We see it only as an act of self-preservation." And Antonio had related to that and asked no more.

And when time came for war with Huld he had taken up his gun and fired in an act of self-preservation. He thought nothing of it, because for him, he was an exile and loyal to no country.

Until he saw the face of his friend, the young man who had helped him when he was poor, fighting in the chaos. Antonio had stopped where he stood and, as a result, was pummeled to the ground by an onslaught of earth. There he lay, shock still, waiting for the inevitable, when he heard a familiar voice, "Antonio?"

It was his friend. The same white haired, red eyed friend he had only wanted to repay. "Gilbert?"

"I thought-" Gilbert started. "You're alive?"

"I am," Antonio responded. He tried to get to his feet.

"But, you're wearing _their_ colors. You're not-"

Antonio nodded. He didn't need to say anything, he wouldn't insult Gilbert's intelligence.

Gilbert shook his head. "Then I-, I'll have to-" he held his gun in front of him. His hand trembled.

Antonio was willing to die. He had lived long enough to see great wealth and great destruction. He was disenchanted with the world. He did not even think he liked being a soldier. He hadn't a place to return to or someone who was waiting for him.

Gilbert held the trigger in front of him. And that was when Antonio remembered his self-preservation and his pride. The ugliest parts that he had inherited from his parents. That was when he found his gun and shot his friend, two shots thrumming in his ear drum.

Then Antonio had run again, to the army he was with, and did not look back. In time the army returned to their origin country, that is to say, the city-state of Altemoré.

Altemoré had come under new ownership when he arrived. A young man greeted the army and at first Antonio had thought that the other was merely a local representative of the ruling class.

Then someone had explained to him that there was no ruling class in Altemoré like in Estria. Altemoré was a city-state and one family owned it and that family had only produced one heir. Antonio was looking at the ruler of Altemoré. And that ruler had said to him, "What the fuck are you looking at?"

* * *

><p>Currently Antonio was sitting in his study (though he could not rightly call it <em>his<em>) and looking over his papers (which weren't _his_ either). He was aware of the situation with Huld and it eased his mind that he would be able to keep his job for a time: The coveted job of General of the Altemoré Army. He had been promoted such when the other Altemoré soldiers had told the young ruler of his expertise on the battlefield, though he had a feeling the other had only promoted him because he had shot the White Devil. Or at least, that was what Romano called Gilbert.

Oh yes. Romano, Master Romano, Lord Romano. Antonio didn't like either of those titles. He simply referred to him as Romano. After all, every ruler of Altemoré had the word 'rome' in there somewhere, as a sort of palindrome. He thought that was title enough for their homeland.

So Romano it was, his grumpy, ill-tempered overseer. And Antonio didn't mind that either. So what if Romano was as pleasant to be around as a shrieking hyena? He paid Antonio for the work he did, and Antonio didn't feel especially indebted to him for anything. He was therefore able to lead an honest life.

And once the former Estrian focused on his work, he didn't feel too emotional about going up against Huld. It was actually kind of fun. He had been trained as a military man after all. He didn't have to enjoy it, but he could make his own fun where it was due.

He had no idea that the impressionable Romano was hopelessly in love with him. That Antonio's presence at Altemoré had lifted the young man's fears of being invaded by Huld, had even sparked ambition in him.

And so Romano had asked Antonio to look over ancient Altemoré records, from when it was an empire. Because, the younger thought, with a general like the one he had, who was to say that this _god_ could not also return Altemoré to its former glory?

* * *

><p>AN: It's me again. Sorry for the looooong wait. Thanks for reading. I think now might be a good time for a refresher. A lot of names got thrown around, didn't they? Anyway, Altemoré is Romano's and Feliciano's (former) homeland, which Romano also rules. Think of it as a small Italian kingdom (maybe a little like Tuscany perhaps). Huld is where Ludwig and Gilbert are from. It's more citylike and has less Weavers than other countries due to a reliance on technology. Sussa is equivalent to Switzerland in this story. Finally, Ketre is like Turkey in terms of size and location, but probably won't be mentioned a lot. Most of the wars between the countries erupted from the dismantling of the Mysgania empire, that happened recently in this timeline. It's supposed to be a little like the Holy Roman Empire in that respect. Once again, thank you for reading and leave a comment if you have any questions.


	13. Huld

A/N: Once again we're back to the main story. Apologies for the wait.

Chapter 12 _Huld  
><em>

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><p>"Captain, where are we going?" They had been on the road for nearly two hours when Feliciano had thought to ask. He had woken near dawn, to the sound of a few soldiers packing up the Captain's tent. Feli had guessed that they were moving on to a new battlefield, so he had packed up as well. Then, when everything was ready, he had taken his place by the Captain's side and started the long walk, trying to keep up the pace.<p>

"Huld," was Ludwig's answer. He seemed to be deep in thought and Feli didn't think he should ask any more of him.

Huld! This brought up so many images into the Weaver's mind. He tried to remember what he had learned in geography class: that Huld was near the middle of the continent (if one could call it a 'middle') and that it was renown for its industry. But Feli, who had become so accustomed to the rustic farms and villages of former Mysgania, could not even begin to picture an industrial city. He had so many questions and surprisingly not all of them focused on his curiosity of a real city, but rather on the Captain himself.

But he resigned himself to walk (or rather march) beside the Captain, keeping his thoughts painfully inward. He overheard, from a soldier marching in close proximity to them, that they were near Huld and it would take three days at most to get there. Three days of walking! By noon his feet were worn out and he wanted so badly to rest, but the Captain kept up his usual pace. If Ludwig was wearing out from this taxing walk, he did not show it, but then again Feli knew that he wouldn't.

A dark inkling of thought flashed in Feli's mind that the Captiain never showed anything.

They took small rests to eat and the day passed in monotonous stride. The next two days passed in the same way, so that Feli was gracious when the little towns and villages started to morph, before his eyes, into tall buildings and walls.

And then it hit him. A wave of nausea, as if he had inhaled the blackest smoke, and try as he might, he could not help but breathe it in. It was everywhere, his eyes watered and his chest heaved. He coughed and could not stop. The soldiers, even Ludwig himself, did not seem to notice, but to Feli, it was a strong and acrid scent that permeated even the air he walked through.

"What is that smell?" He asked, coughing at intervals.

Ludwig looked at him, not in pity or concern, but something akin to self-restraint. "The smell of progress," he said simply and walked on.

As Ludwig was not a fan of big welcomes, he had the soldiers assemble near the outer city and had them seek their own boarding. A big army marching into the heart of the city would have attracted attention, but a straggle of burly men coming in from all quarters was hardly noteworthy at all.

When they had dispersed Ludwig turned to Feliciano. "As you are not familiar with this city you will stay with me in my quarters."

Feliciano nodded. He had expected as much.

Then he was walking, quicker than he had when on the march, through the city's inner quarters. His eyes still burned, but he was able to glimpse at all the continence that made Huld a city. The buildings were big and gray, the streets were big and gray and the people too were big and gray. He was not sure if this was characteristic of all cities or just specific to Huld.

He walked on until Ludwig stopped in front of what seemed to be a building. It would have been modest sized in the country, but for a city, Feliciano reflected, it was quite large. The buildings that surrounded it too were quite large, and in a way, less gray than what he had seen. Perhaps better cared for.

Ludwig turned to him. "You are about to meet my brother, Lord Gilbert Beilschmit."

Feliciano nodded. Ludwig sounded serious, as if he were announcing someone especially famous. Maybe this brother of his was.

"My brother is an extremely prideful person," Ludwig's solemn voice carried on. "Don't show him any pity." To Feliciano's ears, these words sounded like an admonition.

He did not have time think as Ludwig guided him through the iron gate and up the staircase. At once the handsome door was opened to him and a servant bowed to them both. Feliciano wanted to stay, and look at the inside of the building, as it seemed both and handsome and pretty-decorated by portraits and various artifacts-but Ludwig quickly moved on, through the back door, to a courtyard. Now Feliciano realized that what he had just seen was merely the entrance. What they had just passed through was a façade that he now realized was just a pitiful imitation of the mansion beyond. The real house took up an entire street block, walled in by the other buildings. It reminded Feli of some sort of fort or a castle; It was not visible from the street they had just come from, but bigger than most that he would have seen in the country. It was at this door, a double door heavily ornamented with Feliciano could only guess were family crests, that they were received by more servants.

Now Feliciano stood in awe at the marble floors and grand staircase that led to the upper floors. The little touches of finery and finesse that marked the exceptionally wealthy. Even his life in Altemoré could not compare to this.

A servant approached them and Ludwig said a few words to him.

"Follow him, he'll show you to your room."

Feliciano obeyed.

The servant made a beeline for the west hall. The passageway was no less grand than the entrance hall, and incredibly immaculate. It was hard for Feli to believe that someone inhabited such a place—cleanliness abounded, in every panel of wood and thread on the rugs. He felt that just his presence would pollute the place.

He was especially astonished by his room. Or rather, rooms. The servant opened the door to a parlor, which led, Feliciano observed, to two other rooms, and as he explored, rooms and closets in those rooms. Once he got to the bedroom he was in a dream. The largest bed he had ever seen. Not to mention there were no wrinkles or stains anywhere.

His bedroom window looked out into the courtyard he had crossed earlier. From inside, the house looked as immense as it did outside. On the far side of the mansion, he saw the brick walls of the buildings that surrounded the house, as if it was in some kind of enclosure. Above those walls a thick, gray sky could be seen.

Feliciano found something ironic about the cleanliness of the mansion and the state of the city outside. But those thoughts did not keep him distracted for long. A bed to sleep in. And a bath! He wanted to wash all the dinginess from the city off him.

He doubted he could scrub away the wars even if he tried.

* * *

><p>He didn't know how long he had been in the room before the servant entered and informed him that Mister Ludwig, as he was called in this place, requested his presence in the drawing room. Feli quickly rolled out of bed and dressed. Clothes had been laid out for him during his nap and the feel of new fabric on his skin was at once refreshing and strange. Hulden fabrics were extremely stiff, but they were clean and he was grateful for that.<p>

He hurried along the hall, knowing that he had taken his time in dressing himself. Once again he arrived in the main hall. Now he could more thoroughly inspect it.

The twin staircases leading to the second floor were grand, made of a gleaming white marble reminiscent of statues he had seen. There were paintings here and there, equally as impressive and immense, the occupants of which could have passed for kings or military generals.

However, the most striking feature of these was a cage, suspended by a pulley and held in place by iron columns. He had only heard about such machinery. He remembered it being called an elevator.

He puzzled over the piece of machinery, as it did not match the classic theme of rest of hall's decorum, until he recalled Ludwig's talk on pride with him earlier. So the brother of the Captain was a prideful man. That did not seem so out of place given his living conditions.

But perhaps that was why—

"There you are." Feliciano spun around to see the aforementioned Captain advancing toward him. "Come, come. My brother wants to meet you."

* * *

><p>The drawing room was a vibrant shade of blue, which would have been jarring if a sufficient amount of wood paneling and handsome furniture had not been put there to ease the color. The effect, therefore, was that of both intimidation and calm, with a very refined masculinity.<p>

However, the inhabitant was of a completely singular character. He sat in a seat with wheels affixed to it, the mechanics of which Feliciano had only read about. But if the equipment the man possessed was strange to Feli, the man was even stranger. White hair, red eyes. Feli was at once repulsed and attracted to such features.

"West!" The man shouted, as guttural as Ludwig's dialect, but perhaps more vibrant. "What took you? I've been waiting around here for a damn week."

"If you had read my note, brother," Ludwig began, "you would have known that it takes an army of such considerable magnitude at least three days to pass into Huld from Mysgania."

"Well I take it you're doing well?" Asked Ludwig's brother.

"Yes." Ludwig said. He sounded tired, as if coming home were more of a chore for him than being captain of an army.

"And who is your friend there?" Ludwig's brother inquired.

Ludwig made no hesitation. "This is Feliciano, a Weaver and Healer in my army. Feliciano, this is Lord Gilbert, my most esteemed brother and benefactor."

"Oh West! I won't have pleasantries in my own home. Now take a seat! We've gotta catch up!"

Ludwig sat in the seat opposite of the man and Feli found himself to the side of them, though closer to the Captain of course.

The two talked extensively of war and tactics, so that Feli found that it was easier to ignore the conversation than follow it. Every so often a word would be said about him and his duties as Healer, but just as quickly they were talking about weapons and combat. Feli, instead, took that time to admire the many curiosities in the room. Gaming trophies and weapons of every kind hung on the walls or on the mantle. Then there were the portraits, much like those in the grand hall, portraying people of the finest breed and character. Feliciano wasn't sure if the room made him calm or on-the-ready, the cozy furniture pleasantly contradicted the instruments of war that hung from the walls.

The conversation turned around again and Lord Gilbert, as he was called, addressed him. "So you're my brother's Healer? West doesn't tell me half the stuff that happens to him. What kind of trouble does my little brother get into?"

Feli started.

"You don't need to answer that," Ludwig leered at him and Feliciano felt the words on his tongue return to the back of his throat.

"But he's hardly said a word," the other gesticulated.

"It's fine," Feliciano interjected. "I-I'm afraid I don't have much to say. Thank you for your hospitality." He thought to make some sort of curtsey or bow, but he had no idea what the Hulden customs were. Instead, he settled for the simple nod of the head.

"How is it that you always get the cute ones, West?"

At this the Captain colored a shade of pomegranate and Feli stared in rapt disbelief. So this was Lord Gilbert.

"Brother! What are you referring to?"

"Don't forget it was _I _who raised you. Remember that time at the Count Charleroi's?"

"The count's daughter? Don't be ridiculous! I was fifteen!"

Feliciano smiled. Of course Ludwig would have such a person as this as a brother. The conversation continued to flow as normal and before he knew it, a servant entered to inform the party that dinner was being prepared.

And if the mansion was an indication, the dinner, when the group finally made their way to the dining room, was equally resplendent. So much food! Much more than what was needed to fill three people. Feliciano looked questionably around him but no other guests came through the doors.

Regardless of the extravagance (he could see his reflection in the silverware even!) he ate. The food was certainly rich and filling, yet had that foreign taste to it that is not altogether unpleasing, but still peculiar. Feliciano tried to remember the taste of pasta, that delicate yet vigorous substance—and it was true, this food could never compare to pasta—but it was sumptuous, and after army rations, it was like eating at the table of gods. His stomach filled much faster than his mind could register and the next forkful became a struggle rather than a blessing. Eventually he placed his fork down on the table. He had surrendered.

But the indulgence did not end there. The party was conducted into a drawing room, smaller and cozier than the previous one, and smelling pungently of smoke.

Here Feli let himself fall onto a large armchair as cigars were presented to Lord Gilbert. "Does he smoke?" The lord questioned Ludwig. The latter seemed to confer the negative.

Feli confirmed his response with a polite nod.

Gilbert's gaze fell on him, the face of a man who witnesses innocence and naivety in the most pleasing of vessels. "Don't worry about it. I won't have the restrictions of social obligations in my house. You smoke or you don't. It is of no concern to me!" Then he turned to his brother. "But I know you wouldn't refuse the superiority of an–"

The word was lost on Feli. He was tired from the meal, the journey, everything. He lolled in his chair and was eager to sleep, or at least shut his eyes. He thought he might do so easily and he did not care if it was rude to sleep in drawing rooms in Huld. The dinner had done him in.

He was on the edge of sleep when a cry brought him back to the waking world. He opened his eyes, astonished, and saw that the cry had emanated from Lord Gilbert, who grasped a letter in his hands.

"That bastard!"

"Brother, calm down."

"I'll—! I'll—!" He looked ready to tear the letter in half.

"Brother, please!"

The lord looked ready to burst, his temples colored an angry reddish-purple color. He slumped in his chair, as if the weight of his back would snap him in two. Then, he seemed to relax. His arm fell to his side and the letter dropped to his feet.

"I knew it," he said, looking toward the ceiling. "I always knew she would. It doesn't surprise me at all." A weird, ironic smile appeared on his features, the likeness of which Feli had witnessed on the Captain's face when he was beyond expressing a single mood. "She's in better hands now."

Ludwig sighed. He did not appear to be awfully pleased that his brother _had_ calmed down.

Feliciano, perplexed at the event he had just witnessed, looked down at the letter. He noticed that it was printed on paper that looked especially delicate, written in a formal script that he could not decipher from a distance.

"But the nerve of her, to invite me to her wedding!" Gilbert scoffed.

"Brother," Ludwig reproached again. "You shouldn't think her impertinent. With such an occasion, all the noble families of Huld should be there."

"And don't I know it! Even more reason for me not to go!" The lord covered his hand over his eyes, his expression unreadable. "But I didn't think... it's so soon. She was just here the other day."

The captain sighed. It was a subject that escaped his expertise.

Gilbert removed his hand. His expression reverted back to its ironic, wry smile. "What does it matter to me? My brother is back. I don't care what _she_ does. It's no concern of mine! Tell me about your plans little brother."

Ludwig fired in, grateful for the change in topic. "As you know, brother, Phase I is complete. We have secured the lands we set out to claim. For that purpose, I have drafted a strategy for Phase II."

"But Ludwig, you'll never get through the pass in the winter."

"I know, brother. But please look at the plan." He produced a sheet of paper from his breast pocket. "I do not intend to pass through the mountains."

"Then the sea—"

"Yes. I doubt they will expect an attack in early Spring. The climate is warm there and it never snows. The fields should be cleared, which would make excellent battlefields."

Gilbert sighed. "But securing a vessel will be tough. Which port were you thinking of leaving from?"

"That is where Phase I comes back into play. We were successful in claiming land near—" Feliciano heard the name of a foreign town uttered and could not understand it, "—which will allow us to access the sea at ease."

"Ah! My brother, the military genius!"

"I had an excellent teacher."

"Of course!"

"However, that's only the preliminary plan. I am drafting another one that will—" And Feliciano felt himself seeping in and out of consciousness again. The words faded in and out, like dancers on a stage. He welcomed the sleep afforded to him by the plush and cozy armchair. If the two brothers had noticed Feliciano, they said nothing, too immersed in their plans. Likewise, if Feliciano had stayed awake for a few minutes longer, he would have heard familiar names uttered with an elocution so disdainful that they sounded like curses.

There was only one man Gilbert hated more than Antonio Carriedo-Fernandez that night, but that one had beat him at a game he and his brother had never been good at: love.

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><p>AN: I bet you guessed who the mysterious 'she' is in this chapter is. Anyway, this chapter actually ushers in a new section for this story, a sort of Vol. II if you will. We're turning away from the wars to a, well... I'm in love with 19th century (even 18th to an extent) British novels, so this chapter reflects that. A big, luxurious mansion with a mysterious, charismatic host! Oh my! Might there be some complications in the romantic vein of this story?

On a more structural note this chapter was meant to be longer but it's already pretty long and there are certain developments that deserve their own chapter. Also, since it's been a while, I'd love to hear from you.


	14. The Nobles

Chapter 13 _The Nobles_

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><p>Feliciano was given free run of the mansion the next morning.<p>

The west wing was Ludwig's residence, though the Captain continually claimed that the whole mansion was his brother's. The east wing was Lord Gilbert's. In between the two was the grand entrance and rooms upon room of interesting artifacts. Gilbert had been quite the conqueror in his day, Feli heard as he was guided around, and he had collected a gallery of objects on his travels.

"Ah, there's a story for that one," Gilbert said, pointing to what looked like a large horn, carved with delicate reliefs. "Got that when I was sent to Ketre, back in my early days as an officer. We were in a small village for the night. Those were the days, no one there but us, the stars as far as the eye could see."

Feliciano wondered where the villagers were, but figured he was better off not asking.

"And this is a relic from my great-grandfather's day," Gilbert went on, gesturing to a sword that looked too heavy to carry. "Luckily we've come a long way since then. Hey West, can you imagine lugging this thing halfway through a battlefield? Your arm would fall off before someone cut it off for you. And even then that man would be doing you a favor."

Ludwig seemed bored by the tour, as if he was only there to offer conversation to his brother, as Feli could not communicate the jargon of warfare. In a way, Feli felt that the tour was just an excuse to give him something to do, that Lord Gilbert was a more concerned host than he made himself out to be.

It was more of the same for the next week. Feliciano slumped into the comfort of a sedentary existence. While Ludwig and his brother caught up, Feli watched from the windows as late fall descended into winter. Yet there was an eerie feeling to it. The last time Feli had stayed in a place for any significant amount of time had been Valis with his teachers and fellow Weavers. Here he was a guest that hadn't been invited, a stranger among two men who knew each other very well.

Yet, he also felt warm and slightly sleepy. His robe had been washed and even mended a little by the servants and it was the familiar fabric that made Feliciano want to sleep.

From the comfort of his room he watched sheets of rain fall on the courtyard. The rain had painted the entire courtyard gray. He could see the east wing across the courtyard and the walls of the building enclosing it beyond that. He guessed the sky was as gray as the buildings were, although he could not see it.

His room was also gray, without any light from the fireplace. He hadn't asked for any, satisfied with the tea he had been served. It was the tea that wasn't gray, but warm and light brown. Old. Lord Gilbert probably didn't drink tea very much. The cup made a delicate clicking noise as it met the plate and Feliciano snuggled back into the plush chair. The rain continued to fall as he watched a servant cross the yard into the residence, rain pelting off of her head kerchief and the long flaps on her shoulders. Feliciano chilled at the thought of being out in such weather, yet he had been. He remembered the feeling of the wind on the mountain he had met Ludwig on, the rush of it going through his bones and the landscape all around him as desolate as the moon. It was hard to believe it was only a three days march away from this place.

Very soon he would fall asleep. Very soon he'd be invited to join Ludwig and his enigmatic brother in the sitting room. Very soon the life he had been living as a wanderer would fade away.

* * *

><p>It was too early to tell, but Gilbert had already started making mental notes about his guest.<p>

The first note he made surprised even him. It was about honey, swirling around in the eyes of his guest. The color reminded him of childhood, sneaking into the cupboard and dipping a large spoon into the honey jar. Relishing the flavor until the maid scolded him. That was what he felt when he looked into such eyes: freedom, disobedience and shamelessness.

But the master of those eyes was something different altogether; he was modest but lazy in his modesty, letting his habits and behaviors betray him. He had poise, but not an especially large amount of it; he was clumsy and bumped into things. It was like Gilbert was witnessing a young noble who had only received half the training he ought to have had.

For that reason, he called the Healer over.

They were in the blue sitting room, not doing much of anything in particular. It was a gray day, just like all the other days.

"Let me see your hands," Gilbert said, and the hands were lowered to his line of sight. He took them in his own, felt the patches of skin, a roughness he had not thought was there.

"Your hands are coarser than I imagined," Lord Gilbert commented. He admonished his brother for it, easing the calculating observation into a joke. They all laughed, which was exactly what Gilbert wanted them to do.

But the Healer would not look at him in the eyes. He returned to his chair and pretended to listed to the conversation. Upon first seeing him, Gilbert had realized that there was something different about this person. Not just that he was a Healer, or a Weaver for that matter. There was something strange about him, and Gilbert did not know what to make of it.

He asked his brother one day, when the Healer wasn't around.

"Just _who_ is your little friend?"

"He saved me during a battle with Ekaal. Up until now, he has been traveling with us as our chief Healer."

"I know that. But where does he come from? Who is _he_?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. He tells me all kinds of stories about his past but never where he comes from. In fact, I remember he told me he had no home nation, if you can believe that. I told you we met after a battle with Ekaal, but he was on _their_ side. However, as he saved my life, and had no intention of rejoining Ekaal, I couldn't leave him on the battlefield. I needed a Healer anyway."

Gilbert let this information swish in his mind, as if tasting a good wine, letting the flavor roll over his tongue. It told him very little, but then again, he didn't like wine very much.

"No nation? But he must have come from somewhere."

His brother nodded but did not comment any further. He did not seem invested in the subject, or perhaps he was, and too much so.

"But there's something else about him. Something..." Gilbert played with his fingers, tapping little spaces in the air, "I can't put my finger on."

"He says he is a Thender." Gilbert's fingers stopped in mid-air.

"Well then, that explains it."

"How?" His brother looked at him, inquiringly. "How does that explain anything?"

"Well, they say that all Thenders are exiles, don't they?"

"Exiles? I've never heard of it."

"Oh West, you've been off fighting wars. You have no time for old legends. But I..." He did not finish as he looked down at his chair. There was one thing that he could not admit. "And speaking of wars, have you drawn out the new plan?"

His brother nodded. Gilbert's mind became drenched in maps and strategies, but he kept one part of it open for the Thender.

* * *

><p>Even without the army, Feliciano still found he had to adhere to a certain schedule. It was not a strict one, but it was just as regulated as the past months of his life had been. He showed up for the major meals and then joined the brothers in the sitting room, always on the cusp of the conversation. Other than that, he was free to do whatever he chose to do. Therein was the freedom, for the first time in a long time. No more healing duty. No more army food. He did not know what to do with most of his leisure time.<p>

He slept mostly. It was during one of those naps that a servant woke him and asked if he would join the brothers in the drawing room. Not having any other prospects, Feli accepted.

No sooner had he entered the room then he was pulled back by the collar, out of the room and behind the wall. In that brief time he had seen a beautiful woman in an elaborate dress seated near Gilbert.

Feliciano looked to Ludwig, questioning without words. He could hear Gilbert's laughter and a more pleasant, softer voice, egging him along.

"Please forgive my brother. He is distraught over the woman he lusts after." Feliciano kept from smiling. Was that _all_ Ludwig was afraid of him seeing?

"Who is she?" The both of them watched from the doorframe in extremely awkward positions, trying to keep out of sight. Gilbert seemed happier than he had since Feliciano first met him.

"Lady Elizaveta He— no, Elizaveta Edelstein, from an old, old family. She is a Weaver as well."

Feliciano's attention turned back to the woman. She had just finished inquiring about Gilbert's health.

"I thought you would come with your—" Gilbert stopped. It was clear he did not want to finish.

"Roderich?" Her voice was kind and clear. Unashamed.

The lord nodded. "Isn't it improper for a married woman to be in the company of a single man? Esepcially only a week after her marriage? Especially with a man like me."

The woman laughed. "What do you take me for? You know me better than that. And I thought you didn't care about those things."

Gilbert relaxed. His slump became less slumped. "Right you are."

The two conversed and if nobody had told Feliciano, he would have mistaken Gilbert and Elizaveta for a married couple. They behaved like old friends, laughing at each other with no pretense or embarrassment.

Feliciano wondered if he'd ever have someone, something like that. A closeness that wouldn't disappear over some slight interference. He didn't have long to think over it as the couple's attention turned to him.

When there was a natural break in their conversation and Ludwig made to introduce him. But before he could start, the lady came up, or rather ran up to him and said, laughter flavoring her voice, "And you must be Feliciano, the Weaver."

Feliciano bowed. "Yes, my lady.

"Oh please. Spare me the honorifics. So I hear you are an ardent user of healing magic?"

"Well— I—"

She grabbed him by the arm and led him down the hall. "You simply must tell me about your Weaving!" She turned to Ludwig, "I'll be taking him if you don't mind. Weavers ought to keep secrets amongst themselves. Otherwise, who knows what Gil might ask." And off she went with Feliciano in tow before Ludwig managed two syllables.

When they were securely behind a door, the woman turned to him. Feliciano now had the chance to take in all of her. She was definitely from the nobility like Gilbert, her dress looked like it would be a sin to touch it. Her brown hair was in loose ringlets, but the way the light bounced off of it, it could have been made of gold. And her eyes sparkled, not like emeralds, but like the deepest part of the forest with a secret, quiet knowledge behind them.

Yet, Feliciano sensed, the person underneath all that finery did not give a damn how much it was worth.

Her earlier happiness was all but wiped from her face, now she looked at him with some sort of calculating expression. "If you must know, I am blunt, so I'll have to ask you if you're a Thender."

Feliciano stood aghast. This was the fastest anyone had guessed so far. He wondered if there was any use in trying to keep it a secret. "Yes, I am."

Lady Elizaveta nodded. "Good. Then you might as well know that I am one as well."

"A Thender?" He couldn't fathom why she was telling him, or at least why she needed to tell him so quickly.

"Yes. But my powers are very weak."

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked, and then added hastily, "If you don't mind me asking."

The lady sighed. "It's not for me to say. Perhaps Gil will tell you himself." Then her eyes sparkled yet again, giddy and youthful and wild. "But enough of that! Tell me about being in the field. Huld gets so boring and I don't have enough friends to recount their tales abroad."

And so Feliciano told her, more or less, about his adventures. Some things he left out but as he continued it became easier and easier to tell his story.

He was a bit surprised, however, when Elizaveta asked for the especially gory details.

* * *

><p>Ludwig stared out into the gloom of the first day of winter. Soon it would snow, yet Ludwig could never let his blood cool. His mind was awash in plans, tactics for battle, the weapons and supplies he'd need and some of the finer points of warfare. However, it surprised him when two figures caught his eye, walking in the courtyard.<p>

Feliciano and Lady Elizaveta were becoming fast friends. Here she was again, a week after her initial appearance. Currently the two were walking around the fountain, Lady Elizaveta's blue silk hood speaking of her riches. Feliciano looked like a wraith in comparison, his gray coat having seen better days. Ludwig made a mental note to find better clothing for him in the immediate future.

He turned his attention to his brother. After a week, Gilbert had lost interest in Ludwig's stories of the front. Now his pursuits were focused on preparations for the coming spring.

"Do you like him?" Ludwig asked, before he could quite comprehend what he was asking.

"Him?" Gilbert muttered. "You mean Feliciano?"

"Yes."

"I don't suppose I could hate him."

Giving one last look to the walking pair, Ludwig took the seat across from his brother. "I'm serious brother."

"Fine, West. I like him."

"Brother."

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

Ludwig stifled a sigh. "I would like to know that his presence here is not a burden to you."

Now Gilbert was looking at him. "Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Because," and Ludwig had to take a breath, "in the spring, I want to leave him here with you."

Gilbert gave a shrug. "Fine by me."

"I just think that he isn't the type of person suited for war," Ludwig told him, feeling a weight lift as he said his true feelings.

If Gilbert heard this, he didn't let it show, and Ludwig was in part thankful for that. His feelings toward Feliciano, Ludwig knew, were outrageous. He felt honor bound to repay the person who saved his life, and now that he knew the Weaver was not traitor (but rather something else altogether), it was equally frustrating deciding what to do with him.

Nevertheless, Ludwig had decided. He would not force Feliciano to be dragged into a bloody war with heartless criminals. He would take all possible measures to prevent that from happening.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, unaware of the ministrations being passed in his absence, Feliciano walked through the chilled courtyard with Elizaveta. The fountain had been drained long ago, yet it might certainly have frozen overnight if it hadn't. The bushes that ornamented the courtyard had all but lost their leaves and every now and then Feliciano felt a drop on his cheek that could have been snow. He looked up at the high walls the bordered the courtyard and mansion. He had no idea what was going on in the world around him. Here it didn't seem like that was worth knowing.<p>

"May I ask you something personal, Lady Elizaveta?"

"Just Elizaveta is fine," she winked. "But don't tempt me to divulge on anything too scandalous." Her cheeks dusted with a shade of pink.

"It's just that, you said you were a Thender. How... I mean, it must have been hard for you. And yet you seem..." His words drifted off into nothingness, like the warm air he breathed out into the cold.

"I'm okay with being a Thender, if that's what you wanted to know. Come to think about it, you've told me so much about your adventures with Ludwig. I might as well tell you something about me."

"If you don't mind."

"Oh, of course not," she gave a warm smile. "Well, for starters I come from an aristocratic family in a neighboring country, but our lineage is closely connected to Huld. So you'd think I would have been raised to be well-mannered lady. Nope! My father wanted a son and being that I was the first born, I was raised as a boy. I suppose there are many ways of becoming a Thender, a little give and take of nature and nurture, but it just so happened that being raised with swords awakened my abilities one day. Needless to say my father was surprised, to say the very least."

Feliciano was also surprised at her energy. Perhaps it came with living in high society. Yet for some reason, Feliciano kept being reminded of his old life as second-heir of a small country. He was born into privilege as much as Gilbert and Elizaveta were, yet his stomach turned at the fact. A life behind walls, just like the people of Huld lived; he couldn't imagine living like that anymore.

"Actually, I'm getting a little ahead of myself," Elizaveta continued. "The other reason my father raised me as a boy was to protect our inheritance. Our family had been intermarrying with Huld nobility for quite some time, so of course, all the money was going to Huld and not to our own country. My father had finally decided that enough was enough and protected my identity to the very end. I lived as a boy and hunted in the woods and did all those things that boys in my country did. When my abilities appeared my father thought there would be no more threat to his inheritance. After all, who would marry a Thender?

"However, that also meant that I would have to leave home. After all, by that time my father had other children to carry his line. So, on our last hunting trip together my father abandoned me in the woods with money and a dress."

Feliciano turned to her, but he couldn't express any shock. Hadn't it been the same for him? He could only nod.

Elizaveta carried on. "Naturally, as I came from nobility, I went straight to Huld and used the connections my family had. I changed my identity to a woman and therefore had a spotless reputation. It also helped that I was a Weaver and since my powers were weak, there was little chance of them going haywire and revealing my true identity. I lived it up in the high circles and shared the table with politicians and artists. Still, the best food I've ever had is the kind I shot myself."

Her gestures were animated, shooting guns with the air.

"Yet, for some reason, I hide the fact that I am a Thender from most people. It's not that I'm ashamed of it or anything. It's just that, well, you don't normally tell people in conversation about the abnormalities of your body. And before you have to ask, Roderich knows and he's okay with it. We've agreed to have a quiet life and honestly I don't think he would be very good with children."

"Children? What do you mean by that?"

"It's just that Thenders are sterile, aren't they?"

"Sterile?" He hadn't known that. Not that he had ever thought of having children. It hardly mattered to him, and yet it disappointed him that he didn't care more.

"Yes," Elizaveta answered and did not elaborate. "So that's my story."

Taking the hint, Feliciano changed the subject. They walked until the day grew cold and their hands grew numb.

* * *

><p>Feliciano devoured the meal that night for the sole purpose of keeping himself warm. Perhaps Elizaveta could handle the cold, but he couldn't. The frigid air had shot straight through his skin and infiltrated his bones. The clang of the silverware contributed to his new exuberance and even Ludwig was amazed at the amount of food that was presented and put away by the Weaver's thin frame.<p>

Gilbert chuckled. "So you do have an appetite after all! Here I thought you were some monk who went on some kind of extended fast or something. Eat up! There's more where that came from!" And Gilbert unceremoniously dug his fork into fowl leg.

Before he knew it Feliciano felt dizzy. He had been constantly reaching for a drink to wash down the food and now he realized that the closest drink in his proximity had been something alcoholic. Now he moved through a blurred reality, the silverware clanging with a polyphonic reverie.

He wasn't sure when he was brought into the sitting room, but he was sure he had to be dragged there, placed in a cozy arm chair in front of the fire. His stomach bubbled with satiated delight and the fire made him forget the coldness outside. He hadn't enjoyed a moment like this in quite a long time. Yet, he was acutely aware that Lord Gilbert had been sitting next to him the entire time. That would have unnerved in other circumstances, but now it didn't seem to matter. Gilbert owned this house after all. He would offer Gilbert the same hospitality at...

Feliciano stopped himself. Even his addled brain could not admit to _that_ place being home.

Instead he observed Lord Gilbert. He hadn't asked why he was in that chair but he had guessed it had something to do with some kind of injury. Ludwig didn't seem to want him to bring it up and so he hadn't asked. But now it became more and more mysterious.

He opened his mouth but found it without words. His mind was slowed and he forgot what he was going to say. He forgot his inhibitions.

However, it was Gilbert who made the first strike.

"Do you like it here, Feliciano?" It was the first time he had heard the Lord Gilbert use his name, and it woke him a little from his bleary-eyed stupor.

"Oh yes, yes, I like it a loooot." He giggled.

"You are welcome to stay, you know."

"Ookay." Feliciano smiled, but something turned in the pit of his stomach. It made him say, "Thank you, but I a verrry important job to do."

"Oh do you now?" Gilbert chuckled. It wasn't the first time he had seen someone not able to handle their drink.

"Oh yes, oh yes. Veeerrry important!"

"And perhaps I have a job for you, too," Gilbert added.

Feliciano waited for the rest, but Gilbert did not elaborate. A moment later Feliciano could not remember what he was waiting for.

He touched his forehead. He could feel his thoughts swimming around in his head, too many fish in a fishbowl. "Maybe, maybe I had too much to drink."

Gilbert gave an easy sigh. "If you can admit that to yourself, you haven't."

Regardless, Feli was asleep two moments later. He was helped out of his chair by the servants and the rest was a blur of lighted halls, dark, warm bedding and red, watchful eyes.

* * *

><p>AN: It's been a long time, hasn't it? But since it's summer I'll have a bit more free time. I'm also thinking of expanding this story, but it's just a thought at this point. If I'm going by what I originally planned, this story is more than halfway complete... probably. But I could always throw in another story arc in there. So, I'd really like to hear from you. Your thoughts on this chapter, expanding the story or even just to say hello. And I really appreciate all your support so far.


	15. The Agreement Part I

Chapter 14 _The Agreement Part I_

* * *

><p>It was still too soon to tell, but Gilbert followed Feliciano around the house. Not physically, he couldn't manage that in his condition, but with the eyes of his servants. They reported to him what the Healer did. So far, their reports had been completely dull.<p>

"Any magic?" He asked a maid. His hands thrummed on the hard wood table top. He made a mental note to himself that it needed a good polishing after he finished.

"No, sir. Not even the slightest bit."

"Very well." Gilbert relaxed in his chair, but his mind was running over what he knew. A Healer, a Thender, without any connections in the world-all the pieces fit. So why did he hesitate? "You're excused."

Gilbert stared at the ceiling. These years of stagnation were making him soft. He had become too much like the rest of Huld aristocracy, who cared too much what others thought of them, never leaving their strongholds excepting party invitations. The whole nation was going soft.

He would have to change that.

* * *

><p>Feliciano looked at his bed with a mixture of reluctance and mild embarrassment. It wasn't the bed so much, but what was on the bed that gave him a cause for agitation. Today, someone had swapped his robe for a navy blue waistcoat, a shirt, pants and a pair of boots that gleamed like ink. Expensive ink. The items were not as embellished as what Lord Gilbert wore, but the shiny, silver buttons intimidated him more than the barrel of a shiny, silver gun. He shrunk back in shyness and then pulled the shirt on. It was loose-fitting, but it slunked on with ease, a soft light material that felt too expensive to wear. The waistcoat and the pants were the same story. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with the loose fabric hanging from the cuffs, so he shoved it under the coat. He shoved his feet into the boots in a similar fashion and then he shuffled wearily to the mirror. He sighed. He'd never make a commanding figure in such clothes, but then he didn't aim on commanding anyone. Instead he looked like he was out for a walk in the country with clothes a size or two too big for him.<p>

He met Ludwig in the hall, both making their way to breakfast.

"Good, they found something that fits you." The Captain sighed as if in relief.

"They? I'm sorry that I gave you that impression, Captain, but I didn't need new clothes. My robe fit just fine." He tried to give a shy smile to still show that he was grateful, but it didn't quite work.

Ludwig did not reply and they continued on. In the dining room he handed Gilbert a stack of papers. "The drafts you wanted."

Gilbert gave a smug smile. "Ever so reliable. Ah, but what have we here?" Feliciano had just seated himself at the table. "I almost mistook you for a stranger!"

Feliciano only nodded with mild embarrassment.

"Our sensibilities are infecting our guest, West." He laughed and set the papers aside to begin breakfast. "Before you know it, he'll be receiving party invitations from Huld's elite."

Perhaps the clothing had the desired effect, because, as Ludwig and Feliciano noticed, Lord Gilbert could not keep his eyes off Feli throughout breakfast. It gave Feliciano an edge of dread to be watched while he ate, but even more so he was upset that the Captain hadn't so much as looked at him once they entered the dining room.

Ludwig left soon after he had finished the first serving. Feliciano also got up to leave.

"No, stay," Gilbert said. It was not a demand, but Feliciano thought it was wise to stay put. Lord Gilbert was still a mystery to him, despite all the days he had stayed in his presence. He also did not know where the limit of Gilbert's temper was, and he did not feel like finding out any time soon.

Gilbert went over the documents that Ludwig had given him. The stack of papers seemed like the sort of standard war paraphernalia that Feliciano knew nothing about. He waited patiently until Gilbert guided his attention back to him.

"My offer still stands, you know," Gilbert started, not looking at him.

"Offer?" Feliciano replied. He couldn't remember being offered anything.

"Perhaps you really were too drunk to remember, but I said that you were welcome to stay here."

"Ah, thank you! I don't really know Huld, so it would be hard for me to find boarding here..."

"That's not what I meant, exactly," Gilbert interrupted sharply. For the first time, Feli peeked past his apathetic exterior. There was something much more alert, much more scheming under the surface of those blood, red eyes. "You can stay here for as long as you want."

"Thank you," Feliciano bowed his head. "But I will be leaving in the spring with Lu-Captain Ludwig."

"That's funny, I didn't know you were the type so eager for a battle."

"That's... not it. It's just... I..." Feliciano struggled for words.

"You would refuse all this to follow West to god knows where?" He gestured to the lush interior.

Feliciano caught himself nodding.

"Ah, yes." The lord took on a more somber tone. "I remember I might have done the same thing once. But enough of that. Do you think I could convince you to stay here?"

Feliciano looked at him with renewed interest. "I don't know... I don't think so..."

A silence hung over them then as heavy as the chandelier over their heads.

Gilbert touched his knee. "Every now and again these legs act up. I was wondering if you could help me with that?"

"Of course!" Feliciano caught himself sounding too excited about the change in topic.

"Very well, show me then." Gilbert sat back. Feliciano waited for the lord to laugh but the other regarded him with a sharp-eyed expression. It was not a joke then; Lord Gilbert was serious. Something told Feliciano he was usually serious.

"N-now?" Feliciano stammered, caught by surprise. He hadn't expected Lord Gilbert to be so blunt. Regardless, he was at his side in a heartbeat, working the threads as if he was in an infirmary tent again.

He could tell this wasn't the first time Lord Gilbert had experience Weaving before. He was completely relaxed, as if this was just part of the routine. Perhaps it was. He had enough resources to afford regular Healing, despite Weavers being extremely rare in Huld. Perhaps Lady Elizaveta had helped him before...

_"It's not for me to say. Perhaps Gil will tell you himself."_

It made sense now, why Lady Elizaveta was so adamant about telling him that she was a Thender.

Feliciano found the threads in Gilbert's legs had long ago been mended, but they had mended wrong. He could probably still stand, but it was an extremely painful task and Feliciano doubted that Gilbert liked people to see him so much as wince. Regardless, Feliciano found the source of inflammation and gently eased it back to normal. The whole process took a few minutes, and even that was long for him. He was getting out of practice.

"Ah yes," Gilbert exhaled. "You'll do just fine."

Feliciano started to rise, but Gilbert placed a hand on his head and began to gently stroke his hair.

"You're a Healer, huh?" Gilbert muttered, half to himself. "I wonder would you heal me?"

A hand dusted his cheek. The fingers were soft, but to Feli, they could have been made of metal.

For a while Feli stayed frozen until he gently shrugged the hand off.

"I'll be going then," Feliciano said quietly as he rose. He left, not waiting for a response.

* * *

><p>That day the weather took on a dreary hue. Raindrops lashed against the windows in wearied frenzies, testing the integrity of the windowsills.<p>

Felicianoa stayed in his room. He had amassed a small colony of books in the languages he could read and now he began to delve into them. Most were boring, encyclopedia-like tomes with outdated information. Somewhere in-between the migratory pattern of the common finch and the life cycle of moth larvae, he fell asleep.

He was grateful when he missed lunch.

He was grateful when he missed dinner.

Never had he been so grateful to miss a meal. It worried him.

He looked out into the darkened room. How long had it been since he started his journey? He was already beginning to forget the faces of some of the people he had met: Arthur, his irritable teacher; Toris a kind but melancholic friend; Ivan... He shuddered to think of Ivan, that cheerful grin illuminated by the flames of destruction. Then there was Natalia, loyal but deadly and Raivis... he had never found out what happened to Raivis in the end.

Perhaps it was better that way.

* * *

><p>The next morning the weather was no better, but Feli's stomach refused to be cooped up without sustenance. He ventured to the kitchens but was directed by the servants to take his seat at the dining room table.<p>

The journey to the dining room was a march, as dreadful and wearying as the ones he had been in with Ludwig and Ivan. His mind was blank as he entered the room, as he waited for... He wasn't entirely sure what he was waiting for. A reprimand? An inquisition? Another flirtation?

Ludwig and Gilbert greeted him as usual and inquired about his health. Feliciano had hoped missing a couple meals was nothing to worry about, but he decided on the safe answer that he had napped too long the other day.

"I knew it!" Gilbert declared, as if he were recounting one of his victories. "This place is entirely too comfortable. You miss the great outdoors, don't ya? Nothing to protect you from the elements but a thin, well-oiled tent. Ah, I still remember waking with the birds, what a racket they made! It's horribly quiet and then all at once it's like a roomful of chattery women."

Feliciano nodded, not sure what kind of response to give, or even if Gilbert's short monologue required a response.

"I wouldn't be so sure, brother." Ludwig started. "I've caught him taking naps in the oddest places." He paused as he drank from a cup of water. "Perhaps he's not accustomed to such a rugged lifestyle."

Feliciano disliked being left out of the conversation. Normally, he wouldn't have cared, but since the subject was him, but felt obligated to correct the both of them. "It's true. I used to take frequent naps in the past, but I miss sleeping outdoors. I wouldn't give it up for all the warm beds in the world."

Ludwig gave him a cold stare, but Gilbert took his comment jovially. "Me too! I'd sell this old estate if it meant I could get out again. You can sleep in the same bed and see the same old picture hanging on the wall every day, but unless you go out–now there's where you'll see and feel things that you might never get to again." He turned to his brother. "West, tell me one of your stories."

"S-stories?"

"You know. A story. Something interesting."

"Well, I did witness that the use of a phalanx is still feasible in modern warfare."

"Nothing technical. Tell me a real story with drama and characters."

"Drama? Characters?"

Feliciano had to hide a smile. The Captain looked as if he had just been told to lick a toad.

"You don't know any?" Gilbert's voice pure faux disappointment. "Well, what about you?" He turned to Feliciano.

By that time the breakfast food had been cleared away. What was left on the table was the best selection of winter fruits and other small delicacies.

"M-me?"

"You must have something. From what West tells me you've been on quite the adventure."

Feliciano doubted Ludwig had told him very much at all. "I can't recall anything from my life, but my–" he stopped himself, he had almost said grandfather. "A man I know, or used to know, told me a lot of interesting stories about his life."

"Yes, yes, tell it!"

"Well, back in those days he was a great warrior and owned a huge tract of land, from one shore to the other."

"A wealthy man, eh? Perhaps I could learn a thing or two from him," Gilbert chimed in.

"Maybe. This is an old story."

Feliciano was surprised at the ease at which he told the story. He recalled his grandfather telling him about the battles he had been in, sure, but more so, his grandfather's stories seemed less about grandeur and more about harrowing survival. The whole time both Ludwig and Gilbert were engrossed in the story and Feliciano felt he was no longer himself, like he was another person, or rather, that he had another soul. By the time he finished it was nearly lunch, but all three of them had grown bored of the dining room and decided to split up for a private lunch.

He spent the rest of the day mending clothing.

He was stitching up a particularly large hole when he heard a knock at the door.

"Yes? Come in."

Just at the final syllable a servant entered and bowed.

"What is it?"

"My master desires to dine with you." The dinner summons already. Yet, Feliciano found it odd that Gilbert had sent a servant for him. Perhaps it had something to do with him skipping the two meals yesterday. Whatever the reason, he accepted, leaving his needlework half done on the table.

He was surprised when the servant asked him to follow. He was even more surprised when they passed the dining room altogether, making their way out of the central hall and into the east wing.

The place seemed to have different air to it than the one he was residing in. For one, it was less decorative than what he had seen before. There were no tiny tables set up along the wall in the corridor, nor were there very many paintings or artifacts. However, Feliciano couldn't call it bare either, it had a certain stateliness about it that the rest of the house did not have. As if decoration would only get in the way of its real importance.

They stopped in front of a pair of doors. In truth, they looked no different from the other doors in the hall, only that they had been well used. The servant opened the doors and Feliciano stepped inside.

It was much of the same story on the inside. The room was not heavily decorated but what it lacked in detail it made up for in presence. On one side was a roaring fireplace and on the other was a large bed with a chair on the far side of it. And in that bed...

"Welcome, welcome." Gilbert said. He ate from a serving plate on his bed, propped up on pillows. Feliciano thought that Gilbert looked quite comfortable there, in a night shirt, without the usual restrictive embellishments. He also thought that he was intruding on a very private moment and despite his host's words, he was very much not welcomed.

"Come, come, you're so far away over there," Gilbert gestured and the servant all but ushered him forward until he was almost pressed up against the bed.

"Would you like some?" Gilbert offered some of the food to him. In truth, it was only finger food and not very much of a meal, or a dinner for that matter, either. Yet, Feliciano supposed, this _was_ the dinner he had been invited to.

He took a small piece and ate it, in the awkward pose of not quite sitting on the bed, not quite standing on the ground. There weren't any chairs in the room, save one, and Feliciano supposed that Gilbert knew he wouldn't dare sit in it.

"I was figuring I'd like some company since West's out tonight."

"The Captain went out?" Feliciano asked. He didn't mean to sound so shocked.

Gilbert nodded. "Just some preparations. He'll be back before long."

Feliciano decided to change the focus of conversation. "Do you normally eat like this?" It seemed like a luxurious way of living, which was out of sync on what Feli thought about Lord Gilbert. Not that he didn't live in a very lavish place, rather, it seemed that Gilbert was divorced from the notion that riches and opulence were worth anything.

"No, no. But that dining room gets so stuffy sometimes. In here I can breathe." Gilbert definitely looked less intimidating than he usually did. His nightshirt hung low so Feli could see the tip of his spine and his collarbone. In this way he looked almost vulnerable, which was probably not a way he liked to look very often.

Feliciano took some more food and was sure not to drop any. By now he was just about leaning over the bed.

"Please, have a seat." Gilbert patted the space beside him.

"I-I couldn't."

"I don't play games with manners, Feliciano."

Perhaps it was the shock of Gilbert finally saying his name, or the sharpness of his voice, but Feli took the seat he was offered without another hesitation. To his surprise, the bed was harder than he imagined. It even seemed to be made of a harder material than the the bed in his guest room. For some reason, it didn't surprise him.

"Now," Gilbert had moved from the finger food to a desert of small fruit. "What's this about joining my brother in the spring? Not that I could blame you, but wouldn't you be more comfortable here?"

"In some ways I would be." Feliciano stared at the fireplace. It was a calm, warm fire. It was not being manipulated for a destructive purpose. It filled the room with light. "But I want to join your brother. H-he's a good man. Because of that, I want to help him any way I can."

The two of them did not speak for a while. Feliciano felt his heart sink, but not because he thought he had answered with the wrong thing to say. In all regards, Feli felt that he had said what he had needed to. He just wasn't sure how Gilbert would respond.

It was Gilbert who spoke first. "You'd do anything for my brother, wouldn't you?"

Feliciano's words came fast. "Anything that I thought was right."

Lord Gilbert quirked an eyebrow. "Ah, but what is right for my brother isn't necessarily what is right to you or even me. Even you know that my brother only lives in one reality."

Feiciano knew what he was getting at. Ludwig was stubborn in his values, and even good values did not always stay that way.

"I know," he replied.

"Perhaps even one day you'll have to choose between the person and the ideals." The way the light from the fire played in Gilbert's eyes was like nothing Feliciano had ever seen before. He was not sure if he was looking at the iris or a red on red reflection. The two seemed to meld together, at once an eye and a flame, yet not completely either. Something incomprehensible. "I'm talking to myself." That something incomprehensible turned to him. "I thought you should know."

Feliciano couldn't think of a reply. He simply nodded and tried to look around the room for a place to rest his eyes. He couldn't find one. It was as if the room and everything in it was a conspiracy, a ploy, to make him talk to Gilbert. However, it didn't feel like he had anything in particular to gain from the conversation. On the contrary, he had quite a bit to lose.

"Oh! I wanted to thank you for your hospitality." Feliciano tried to put on a grim, anything to ease the unpleasantness. "Thank you for allowing me to stay here as a guest. I don't have a means to repay you now but-"

"Don't repay me." A quick, dark retort.

"A-alright."

"If there's one thing I hate, it's gratitude." Gilbert turned away from him and Feliciano realized he hadn't been breathing the whole time. He took a deep breath. He counted the seconds. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...

"I don't normally show that side of myself." Gilbert turned to the fire, grinning. His voice was even again. "It's been a while since I thought of the past."

Again, Feliciano studied Gilbert. He seemed tired and, for a moment, Feliciano wondered who he was sitting beside. This was not the boisterous Lord Gilbert he had come to know. This person was lethargic yet quick, all over the place. A soldier without a battlefield.

"I've been thinking..." Feliciano started. For some reason he was much more realized than he had been before. It was as if this Gilbert was much easier to talk to than the other one. "I'm sure I've heard it in bits and pieces, but how did you meet Ludwig?"

"How I met West, huh?" Gilbert closed his eyes for a few moments and opened them again. "How long has it been now? Not more than ten years ago. I was in Mysgania at the time. I found him sleeping in a cart. It was strange, I'd never seen anyone sleep so easily in a cart before. So I thought I'd wake him. I'm still not sure if I meant it to be a joke or not. Only, he didn't wake up. So I shook him harder and harder until I was sure I was rattling his skull. Finally he opened his eyes. I tried asking his name or where he was from, but he he could answer. So I thought I'd take him with me. Everything else just happened. He thought I was his brother and I came to think of him as the same."

"He told me once that he didn't remember his childhood. I suppose he really doesn't remember anything."

"What's the point of a past that can't be remembered? Or for that matter," Gilbert turned to him, "a past you won't speak about."

Something inside Feliciano trembled. Why did his mouth go dry whenever he thought about it? It had been so long, it hardly seemed like a memory anymore. More like a flame, flickering with the last of its strength.

This was when Feliciano noticed that the room had grown significantly darker. The fire was dying steadily. Gilbert's features had softened, most of them lost to shadow. He did not look very much like Ludwig, but in this light the two could almost pass for blood relatives. There was the same glint in their eyes, the glint that a bird of prey has soaring through air currents above the world, yet always looking down at it.

"It's getting late." Feliciano said at last. He moved to leave the bed, but Gilbert caught hold of his wrist.

"What delicate bones you have." Feli couldn't make out Gilbert's expression in the shadows. "Not even Elizaveta is so..."

Suddenly, Feli felt a sharp pull on his wrist. His head was on Gilbert's chest in an instant, his elbows sinking into the bed on each side of Gilbert's shoulders. The moment he looked up he was thrown back down again, something pressing down on him, something warm on his lips. It was over in an instant, but in that instant he felt a terrible heat and ineffable longing. It was not a longing for more.

Gilbert broke away first, his mouth a thin line and his eyes a jaded slant.

"Perhaps he sees something that I don't..." Gilbert muttered.

Feliciano scrambled out of the bed. His hand reached for his lips, as if to take it all away.

"G-goodnight!" Felicano said as calmly as he could. His voice shook. His steps were wide and hurried. He was halfway down the hall before he slowed down.

However, Feli could not say he was disgusted at Gilbert's advances (perhaps, even, it was the rejection Gilbert craved). He knew he was playing a dangerous game with his host. How much longer could either of them last? The whole mansion felt like cramped quarters when it was the setting for a love affair. But this really wasn't a love affair, was it? They were not in love.

Feli searched for the words to describe it. His relationship with Lord Gilbert seemed to progress and retreat without warning. At times, Gilbert was the enigmatic stranger, watching him with cool, calculating eyes. And, at others, Feli thought of him just another soul that needed healing, a wounded soldier with a lost cause.

Still, there was another feeling that surpassed all the other wandering thoughts. Gilbert may have invited him in, fed him, clothed him, but he was definitely not doing those things for free.

* * *

><p>AN: I decided to cut this chapter into parts because it was getting too long. The good news is that the next chapter should be out soon. I also decided to make this chapter more interesting. Thanks for all your support.


	16. The Agreement Part 2

Chapter 15 _The Agreement Part 2_

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><p>Ludwig liked to use non-descript entrances when returning to his brother's residence. He disliked the grand entrance hall and all its decorum and all the fuss the servants made to greet him. He preferred a side door or even the service doors after a long day of preparations. In truth, he did not feel he deserved all the splendor of bows and curtseys, after all, it wasn't and would never be <em>his<em> house. He simply liked to conduct his business without trifles. He simply did not like accepting anything he felt he did not deserve.

He was passing through a darkened hallway when he caught a glimpse of someone moving ahead of him. As Ludwig approached, he saw it was Feliciano and not a servant as he had originally expected. The Healer seemed lost in thought, so much so that he did not seem to notice Ludwig, who made no indication that he was there and instead quickly made his way to his brother's room.

"So did you convince him to stay?" Was his first question, quick and to the point.

"Convince would be an odd way of putting it," Gilbert answered nonchalantly.

"Brother, he has to stay here. He can't go with me in the spring–"

"And if he doesn't, then what?" Gilbert replied sharply. "You want him to stay here? If I had a Healer as talented as you say he is, I'd want to keep him by my side, or at least keep tabs on him." Gilbert sunk into the pillows a bit more. He did not care for emotional tirades so late at night.

"What are you saying?"

"In war, everything is a weapon, even a Healer. If one's not on your side, they're on someone else's." His tone was even but still held an undercurrent of foreboding. Ludwig did not like it.

"Which is precisely the reason why he needs to stay here."

Gilbert rested his eyes. "Very well."

Ludwig waited but his brother did not utter another word on the matter. After conveying news on his preparations, he wished Gilbert a good night, and turned on his heels. His mind was getting tired. It felt slightly muddled, like someone had whisked it in a stirring bowl and left it sitting out for hours. He walked quickly to ignore it. He did notice that his steps led him _not_ to his bedroom door, but to another place altogether.

* * *

><p>A knock at the door made Feliciano shake. He had been sitting in the dark for a long while, trying to make the fuzzy sensation disappear from his lips. It would not go away.<p>

The door swung open before he could answer it.

"It's dark in here." It was a voice Feli had not been expecting.

"Captain?"

Feliciano rose and started to walk toward him, but stopped himself. From the shaft of hallway light he could make out Ludwig's piercing stare. It was a stare that erased the feeling on his lips but replaced it with something else equally as dreadful.

"I talked with my brother."

"Yes... he..." Feliciano could not form another word as Ludwig launched at him.

"Why won't you accept my brother's offer? He wants you to be his Healer—"

"You must think me a fool, Captain," Feli lowered his eyes, "if you do not believe I know there is more to it than that."

Feliciano gazed up just in time to see Ludwig glare at him indignantly. "I will admit my brother has ulterior motives–"

"He wants me to be his concubine!"

The Captain did not respond kindly to having words thrown in his mouth. "Don't speak of him that way! My brother would not force you into such a position. His chief interest in you is that you are a Weaver and that he finds you pleasant to be around."

"Those words are your own." Gilbert's advances played in his head, but they did not seem to have the same edge to them that they had had moments before. Instead, little snippets of memories invaded Feli's mind: Gilbert staring at him from across the table or the looks he would get as he dozed off in the parlor's armchair. Those scenes made his skin prickle. "I have known Lord Gilbert long enough to know his true motives."

Ludwig's lips compressed into a thin line.

"Perhaps they are. Perhaps he does want you for more than your powers. But my brother is also thinking about your best interests. I realize having someone like you in my army is a mistake." At this Feli's eyes widened. "Don't misunderstand. You are valuable as a Weaver, but you are not suited for war. I did not realize this but my brother, as a noble, did. He says you came from good breeding. He says you must have been raised as a prince. I must confess that I never questioned your childhood–as a man without one I fail to see the value in them–but my brother is right. You do not have the look of a peasant about you, or even that of a skilled laborer. And your tenacity especially leads me to believe that you were raised as a noble, I daresay, an heir of some small country."

Feliciano's blood ran cold. The Captain had proven himself worthy of his position many times, but his deduction was so perfect that Feli felt compelled to tell him everything all at once. "You see..." he started.

Ludwig cleared his throat. "No. I won't ask you. It is not my business and if you have hidden it for so long then it is of no concern to me. Besides, it would only detract from the matter at hand."

Feli wanted to breathe a sigh of relief and curse himself for letting the conversation get back on track.

"I will admit my brother thinks fondly of you. He has lost many things since his injury, but pride has not been one of them. He would like to think that he woos you with his words and that you have a strong attraction to him. I know this is not the case, but if you could pretend to acknowledge his advances, if you could pretend to be as pleased to see him as he is to see you, it might be the best thing that's happened to him since..." Ludwig did not finish his words. There was no need to. Feliciano knew how it would end.

"And so you want me to live with your brother," Feli began. The Captain nodded. "You want me to be his Healer and perhaps, given time, his lover." At this, another nod, but Ludwig caught himself.

"No, I didn't intend–"

"But you did, Captain," Feliciano sighed restlessly. "If I am going to spend the rest of my life with someone, I want to be the one to choose that person."

"Then," Ludwig started, "I suppose... My brother does say he's attracted to you... And if you are also–"

"You don't understand, Captain!"

"I understand that you are penniless and homeless," Ludwig continued, as if he hadn't heard Feliciano's outburst. "I understand that my brother is offering you enough to live comfortably. What I cannot understand is why you continue to refuse his offer."

"You know I am a Thender, Captain. Yet, sometimes, I feel like I am less than human. I've tried to protect myself and my powers, but there are still people who would use them." Feliciano spun around to face Ludwig. "That's why I joined you, Captain. You didn't force me. Until now..."

The Captain listened to this with careful attention. "I already told you he would not force you into anything you would not want to do. It was..." Ludwig's pace slowed, as if it became harder to say the next words, "...part of our agreement."

"Agreement?"

The Captain nodded. "Like my brother, I also do not believe you were destined for the life of an army Healer. It is a tough life and with time it will crush you. Just before we left for Huld I could see you cracking, you had an unhappy look in your eyes..."

"It was not that, Captain."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it was not the army life that did that to me."

"If you believe that then let's focus on the physical. My brother said your hands were coarse. Show them to me." At this Feli yielded his hands and the Captain felt them. The act was purely one of duty, much to the Weaver's disquietude.

"It's true," the Captain ascertained. "And I bet your feet are worse. Not just that, there are bruises all over you that are just starting to heal, and little cuts and scratches."

"I accepted that along with the job, Captain. I'm not as delicate as you think."

Ludwig gave him a look of supreme dissatisfaction. "And once again, I say it was a mistake. Had I known what I know now, I would have never led you out into the battlefield with that group of scoundrels. Why did you think I invited you into my tent in the first place? It was the only place that I knew you would be protected from them. But I digress. If you become my brother's personal Healer you will not have to worry about that. You can live here with all the privilege as one of the members of the household and I'm sure my brother would not spare any expense on you or deny you anything. Your life again will be that of a prince, if indeed that was what you were before. You will only have to heal and regard him, that is all."

Feli's eyes fell downcast again. "I have no problem with healing your brother and as to the type of regard you mean, your brother does actually flatter me with his words–"

"–then I will tell him–" Ludwig broke in.

And Feli broke back, "–but I do not love him."

Ludwig stopped and stared. "Love? What does that have to do with it?"

Feliciano took a breath, then started, "I know that is what your brother truly wants. He does not just want a powerful Healer, even Weaver, or an attendant. He wants love. I saw the way he was with Lady Elizaveta. He does not lust after her, as you say, he only wants her to love him, and now that he is denied her, he regards me as a substitute."

"You are more than that–"

"Maybe. Maybe he loves me, but not in any way equal to the way he loved, or still loves, Lady Elizaveta. That's why I cannot accept what you are offering just now. I cannot give Lord Gilbert what he truly wants."

"Love?" Ludwig said, incredulously.

Feli nodded. "Don't misinterpret my words. I do appreciate your brother's kindness, and I do enjoy his company, but I do not love him."

"Love?" The Captain repeated again, each time becoming more and more unbelieving.

"Yes, Captain, Lord Gilbert Beilschmidt is not the man I love."

"This is all about love? Of all the silly things!" The Captain said, half in disgust. "You will not accept my brother's offer, you will not live a life of luxury, because of something as _meaningless_ as love?"

"You _believe_ it to be meaningless, Captain. In fact, that does not surprise me." _You would not recognize it if it slapped you in the face._ Feliciano kept his hands in check. "But I _do_ believe that love exists. I _do_ believe that it leads you to reject life's luxuries in pursuit of it. Even at the cost of happiness, I believe I'd choose love."

The Captain shook his head. "You're not making any sense. Our drinks are especially strong in Huld, but coming from Ekaal..."

"I am not from Ekaal. And it is not the drink. I have told you that I cannot accept your brother's offer, that I refuse. Please accept that."

Ludwig stared at him, a cold, calculated stare that was deciding the best course of action to take. As if this were just another battle. Another campaign. Another soldier acting out of line. "I will give you time. The agreement with my brother involved practical issues as well. My army is desperately in need of Healers, and regardless of your decision, actions have already been made to secure more. Once they are ready, I will ask you again. At that time you will tell me your final decision and no sooner. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Captain."

The Captain nodded, "Good. Now think it over." Then he turned abruptly and left without looking back.

Feliciano returned to his room feeling as hopeless with his prospects as when he had started the conversation.

He found trouble sleeping that night. His thoughts raced through his head, feverishly.

Where was the use in arguing when everything had already been decided for him? He was certain it was not Gilbert that had invited him to his room, but Ludwig. It was Ludwig who had orchestrated that plan to get him and Gilbert together.

"Captain, you're such a fool," Feliciano sighed.

He imagined living in the mansion and having all the amenities at his fingertips. It sounded nice and Lord Gilbert was not completely disagreeable (obnoxious, but not disagreeable). He imagined finally having some place to call home, but for some reason, when he tried to picture it, he would be feel some kind of loathing emotion. No. That was not the life for him.

Then he imagined the open sky and walking for miles and the person he loved at his side. His heart filled with a soft spark of joy. Yes. That was it. He would choose that life over a life of riches every time.

And yet how could he get the Captain to understand that?

Perhaps love was not to be understood, perhaps one only experienced it. So it was settled then. He would get the Captain to experience love for himself.

* * *

><p>Feliciano woke in the early morning. A gray, subdued light shined through the curtains of his bedroom and he opened the curtains and looked beyond. The courtyard was gray as well, the ground, the trees, even the fountain. But for the first time, a hint of white mixed with the gray. It had snowed ever so lightly. He looked at the the bushes that nestled to his window. They were all branches now and Feli got the impression that winter was making its first round.<p>

He wondered how long Ludwig intended to stay in Huld. The Captain had never given him a timeline, nor told him anything expressly related to the army. He only knew that he would leave some time in the spring. Perhaps that was on purpose. Ludwig did not think Feli would be joining the army once they set out again, he had already made that perfectly clear. However, Feli did not think Ludwig the sort of person to travel through the vicious weather of winter, or the type to fight on a freezing battlefield. It just wasn't efficient.

He would have to ask, or at least, find out.

That was when he was broken from his musings and saw a male figure crossing the yard. He seemed to be starting a run, and judging by the comfortable clothes he wore, there was no doubt he was exercising. There was no doubt it was the Captain. From behind the window, Feliciano trembled. It was cold out there and yet the captain did not seem to mind. Instead, he soon broke into an even pace, circling around the courtyard.

Feli had made his resolve and in order to accomplish his goal, he would have to meet the captain on his own field.

Feliciano unlocked the window. No sooner had he done it then all the warmth flew out of the room like people escaping from a fire. The cold was incredible, at once fierce and penetrating, at once everywhere, within and without. He climbed over the window ledge and was careful to avoid the bony branches on his dissent.

Then he was bounding toward the captain, air like daggers going into his lungs.

"Captain!" He yelled, half-expired from the cold. The other heard him and lightened his pace.

When Feli was closer he spoke softly, "May I join you?"

Ludwig looked at him, his cold gaze dissected Feli's whole being, but he consented. "You'll have to keep up. I won't slow down."

The first few laps were easy for Feliciano. The air warmed around him the more he ran, and eventually he was welcoming the rush of cool air rather than condemning it. But then it started to hurt. The captain never lightened his pace and Feli's legs began to protest. They were tired, he was tired and he had not exercised in a long time.

He slowed down and the captain kept running. Eventually he was overlapped. Then again. The again. Feliciano found a bench to rest on and was reminded of the cold. Now it seemed tolerable. Now that he was already tired and uncomfortable, it did little to bother him.

The captain came then, not out of breath, not tired-seemingly-but smiling. "Didn't think you could put up for as long as you did," he said. Feli detected a hint of familiarity in his tone.

"After marching with you I don't think I could have done any less."

"That is true." Still the same hint.

"Captain, I would like to run with you some more. That way I'll be prepared when the spring comes again."

"What do you have to prepare for?"

"To march with you." The captain's gaze lost the slight playfulness it held so Feli added, "I'm out of shape."

Ludwig looked at him sharply, but the look soon disapated. "I have no objection to you running with me," he said simply. "But you'll have to wake yourself. I won't wait for you."

Feliciano grinned as Ludwig returned to his laps.

* * *

><p>Early mornings were the best. Feli would wake and run around the yard with the captain. Sometimes they would talk. More often they would say nothing at all. When he got tired, Feliciano would retire to the bench and Ludwig would look at him with the beginnings of a lighthearted expression, never letting up his pace.<p>

Breakfasts were the worst.

Lord Gilbert would be there, but that was not the thing that bothered Feli. The Captain would not speak to him during those intervals when he was in his brother's presence. Instead, he would strike conversation with the latter, and their words would be lost on Feli, the two of them in a separate world of strategies and logistics.

How frustrating, Feliciano thought. How frustrating to witness all the knots of companionship come undone as the Captain reverted back to his cool and unfeeling exterior.

Feli fretted. He dropped bits of tea on the tablecloth. When he tried, cooly, to clean his mess he heard Gilbert's dry cackle. "Don't worry about it! I won't have table manners in my house!" And just as soon as he said that, ten drops of beer splattered on the table cloth from the cup he had slammed on it.

Lord Gilbert was an early drinker.

But the early mornings were the best. He would run up beside the Captain and the both of them would cleave through the air, their breath emitting long trails that looked like spirits, dissolving into the long expanse of the gray beyond.

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you for your long wait. The second scene in this chapter was the reason why I wrote this, it was actually one of the first passages I wrote for this story. I just wanted them to talk like that, to say everything without saying it (I'm such a dork). Anyway, thank you for reading and sticking with it.


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